Translucent
by a mountain of gideon's scones
Summary: *Continues directly on from Last Breath* They've got a choice: live or die. They can die as warriors, or live as heroes...or both. When it becomes clear that Amelie needs one thing to bring her back, just how far will Myrnin go to give her it? NOT CANON TO BLACK DAWN OR BITTER BLOOD. R
1. Choices

_I don't own anything_

_This basically follows on from the end of Last Breath, besides for the fact that the last 2 and a bit pages don't happen – Claire does _not_ accept an unasked proposal from Shane…and the bit with Oliver is sort of covered here, some dialogue the same as the book._

_Basically, I'm writing this because if everything in Black Dawn happens _opposite_ to what I want, with Amelie and stuff, then at least I can reread this and pretend it's the book._

_Other than that, we're all set to go!_

* * *

They were, in a nutshell, pretty screwed, Claire decided as they watched the slow pink colour begin to control more of the sky than the previously ebony black colour that hung ominously there. Not only was Magnus in pretty much complete control of the town – and, the scary thing was, he was so much more powerful than even _Bishop_ was – and they didn't even have Amelie to sort everything out. No, she had sacrificed herself to ensure that they could get out of the swimming pool, to ensure that Magnus had less chance of regrouping quickly, and she was pretty much dead now, according to Myrnin.

"We're going to sort this," Claire said defiantly to nobody in particular as her attention found itself moving across from the new dawn to hover on Amelie's face. She looked so much younger today, the youngest Claire had ever seen her appear, and it seemed with the way she was dressed that she was about the same age as Claire.

Yet, of course, she wasn't: she was almost 1500 years old, Claire thought, and as a human she must have been in her early twenties – _not_ that debating how old Amelie looked would help them. Unless they were careful, they would all be dead. And that wasn't particularly the plans Claire had for that year.

Oliver turned to her, seeming almost human with the woman in his arms, and shook his head, a worn and tired expression on his face. "What makes you all continue to help us?" he asked, the same edge to his tone, an almost dreary disbelief that this was happening. "We have done nothing for you; what makes you fight for us?"

A quick glance between Claire and Shane had the answer form on her lips near instantly, yet Shane beat her to it. "We need to stop someone pulling the plug on Morganville, like Amelie would have done – was _planning _to do – if she was still around," he explained, an almost look of disbelief crossing Oliver's face now.

"And what makes you think I shall not?" he asked. "After all, Amelie and I are based on many of the same principles – it is merely our decision when the right time to fight is that changes between the pair of us," in those words, Claire could tell that he loved Amelie, that he would fight for her whether they were going to join him or not.

"You're a fighter – she was going to leave," Michael butted in before Shane could answer this time, shrugging despite the look of pure pain on his face what he had done to Eve. "And, let's face it; we're all going to be dead by morning if we don't get a move on, so I think that we've got more chance with you than we do without you," he continued, leaning his head back against the back of the Bloodmobile. It was the last proper place that they had complete control over – that, Claire supposed, and the lab, which was so far underground she doubted it had been discovered by Magnus. No, she knew they had at least _one_ place safe…for a few days, at least.

Oliver smiled ever so slightly, continuing forwards with telling them that it would be a lot harder than it had been before.

"Yeah, we know; we're sort of not really doing that well at the minute and I'm sick of it," Shane shrugged, rolling his eyes as if it wasn't news that they were in a life or death situation to him. And it wasn't – they'd been in one, really, since the Morganville natives were born…it had just gotten a little dicier of late.

Oliver didn't say anything else for a long moment, walking out of the bloodmobile with Amelie in his arms, muttering something under his breath as he left. Claire turned to Michael for a translation at normal volume, yet he didn't seem to have heard, his expression worryingly vacant once again. So she turned to her second choice, Myrnin, who she still hated for the way that he had tried to kill Shane (even though it was on Amelie's misguided orders) and waited for him to tell her.

His eyes shut slowly and he sighed, pressing his forehead into the palm of his hands as he shook his head. "What is this coming too?" he murmured, almost to himself, as if the others weren't there. Then his head lifted and his eyes opened to reveal the near black irises that contained pain Claire couldn't even comprehend. "I shan't say what he said, Claire, for it is irrelevant to you," he copped out of telling her, yet she couldn't get mad with him. Somehow, she realised that he was even less stable today than he was normally – not because of whatever he felt for her, but about Amelie.

And, she had to admit, this was already one hell of a lot more dangerous than even she had thought: if Magnus had managed to lure Oliver into the pool and then attack _Amelie_ as easily, what hope did even every human together have? He had snapped her neck easier than it would be for her to wring a towel out – his powers were unmatched around her, especially without the strongest team there was.

"Is this it then?" she demanded as he continued to stand there, a dejected and lost puppy who had no bite. "You fight before and then you just stand here, as if you've got nothing to do!"

He smiled ever so slightly, a movement filled with a bitter edge of melancholy, and shook his head once again. "I fought because I felt we had a chance to win and I was mistaken," he explained. "And all it got us was into a position where Amelie is now close to death, when she could have regrouped and fought once again with the others she sent away. We have no hope, Claire, not if Amelie has gone."

His self deprecating stance had her angry with him instantly, making her want to punch and slap him, not only because of her previous standing issues with him but because he was giving up without fighting.

"You're a _vampire_ – surely you can fight!" she snapped back at him. "You did it before, in the first fight against Bishop and then you killed him!"

He smiled once again, taking a step back from her and leaning against the side, shutting his eyes from the dawn that was beginning to set in fully. "I am a scientist, Claire, not a fighting mad vampire like Oliver," he sighed. "He can lead the battle; I can only advise on what to do, to attempt to emulate the decisions Amelie may have made…" he trailed off, his thoughts taking a route that Claire presumed would be the most dangerous path to take – after all, when had any of his last plans worked out properly?

"So your decision is to give up?" she confirmed, taking that step back between them to get in his face, to try and rile him into making a move against just giving up. "You're going to betray her. She's not dead _yet_, Myrnin, as you said. She's got a short time, maybe…I don't know how long, obviously, yet you have to try and fight for her!"

His eyes suddenly brightened, as if he had confirmed an idea in his brain that he felt could work, that he could do something to help. And all Claire wanted to do was groan as she saw the flicker in him, the thing that she knew set him apart from every other scientist worldwide, simply because he wanted to test the boundaries. Just, sometimes, he didn't know which the right boundaries to test were.

"I know what we can do, Claire, but I need your help," his speed of speech picked up dramatically as he stood up straight, stepping around her with the fluidness that had always startled her – but after being taken by Oliver on that run, she sort of saw how fast they actually moved.

"With…?" she trailed off, automatically looking back at Shane in almost permission to do this.

Myrnin smiled ever so widely, leaning out of the bloodmobile to look out for where Oliver had taken Amelie, Claire presumed. "I need you to help me run tests like before, with the Bishop disease, yet for a reason _much_ more important," he said gravely, yet not actually telling her what the tests were for. She had a feeling he was waiting for a big moment, to announce dramatically what he was doing.

She was right.

"Either tell me now, Myrnin, or I'll walk and just do what Oliver says," she threatened.

His eyes narrowed a little, yet didn't loose any of the sparkle in them that marked out to her that he was confident he had a chance. "I don't believe you," he muttered gloomily, yet he didn't press it further. Instead, all he did was lean forwards in a conspirative manner, blocking Shane, Eve and Michael out of the conversation as much as possible.

"We're going to bring Amelie back."

* * *

_Dun-dun-dun._

_Or was it obvious?_

_Either way, __don't__ alert/fav/read without reviewing please & thanks._

_And I'll update whenever I've gotten 10 reviews._

_Vicky xx_


	2. Agreements

_Chapter 2:_

_Sorry this took so, so long to update; I spend all my time doing homework at the minute, which really sucks, and even then I'm still so behind._

_I don't own anything_

* * *

Claire could only stare at Myrnin in shock.

"_What_ did you say?" she squeaked after a good few seconds of staring at the face of her boss. The only thing she could think was that he had done it, that he had finally gone crazy without the Bishop virus.

He rolled his eyes, the eyes continuing to twinkle confidently, and sighed whilst gesturing elaborately with his right hand. "You heard me, Claire. Only imbeciles need to have things repeated to them," he replied instantly, the glee in his eyes transferred into his voice also.

Instantly, Shane was moving around the side of Myrnin and standing right next to Claire, wrapping his arm around her protectively. She didn't seem to notice, continuing to stare at Myrnin in shock as she began to process how deathly serious he was.

"What's going on?" Shane demanded, an angry edge creeping into his tone as he changed his focus between Myrnin and Claire, looking for which person would be more likely to tell him what he wanted to know. Yet as he spoke, an almost defensive side slipped over Myrnin's face, a sinister edge to the grin that still clung to his face.

"Nothing to concern you," Myrnin replied coolly, narrowing his eyes as Shane tried to stare him down. It would have been comical if they weren't in the situation they were in – hours from certain death if they didn't get to a safe location.

Just before Shane managed to reply with what was probably an extremely sarcastic comment, Claire managed to respond properly this time. "But Myrnin, it was _you_ who said that there is no cure for a master draug's bite," she stated, her voice becoming higher pitched than normal. "How do you plan on saving Amelie in like the next couple of hours when we're being hunted by Magnus and therefore have nowhere safe enough to stay?" she continued, stressing as she wrenched herself away from Shane and paced as far up as she could in the ridiculously small space of the Bloodmobile.

Evidently, she had given the game away, let the cat out of the bag, and instantly Michael stepped forwards, a serious expression on his face. "You want to try and save her?" he confirmed, slightly righteously since _he_ was one of the vampires they saved from the pool. "Myrnin, I could feel-" he tried to continue, until Myrnin turned to shoot him the dirtiest look Claire thought she had ever seen. Even though it wasn't aimed at her, she still flinched back into the wall of the Bloodmobile, the angle causing the sunlight to catch her eye.

For a split second, the warmth of the dusky pink that had the control of the sky now, in opposition to the ebony black, soothed her. It made her contemplate how the good could always overcome the bad, that they had already gotten through something like this with relative ease. Maybe they could do it again; they could fight Magnus and _win_ and then everything would be relatively normal – there'd be no Amelie, and it would be Oliver in charge, but there would be _life_. There would be hope.

And then she remembered that there was absolutely no way that _they_ – and three of them were humans – could beat Magnus without Amelie. She was the one who had weakened him so that they could destroy him, yet they had no means by which to carry out what she wanted. They could fight back against Magnus for a while but, as happened every night, the darkness would overpower them.

The darkness wins - always.

They couldn't win without Amelie, she had come to that decision quite quickly. They were dead without Amelie because none of them were leaving the town…so why did she oppose Myrnin's idea so readily? Why did she oppose the idea that there was always the possibility that, in the short time they had, they try and fail to bring Amelie back, when they've got a certain death sentence otherwise?

Claire refocused upon the group of four others in the Bloodmobile, aware instantly of a tension static in the air. _How do they manage to argue so quickly_? She thought wryly as she stepped forwards to hear Shane telling Myrnin he was crazy.

"No, he's right," Claire stood up for Myrnin as she walked back across the small space, loitering in the door. The breeze woke her up a little from the stupor the shock of Amelie's falling had caused – she had to be clinical, to make the decision for the good of them all and not just for what she wanted.

"Claire?" Shane turned in confusion to look at her, the wind taken out of his sails slightly from his informing Myrnin that he is an absolute retard to contemplate bringing Amelie back.

"Look, we're all in this situation, right?" she started, leaning back against the side of the Bloodmobile, periliously close to falling out. But that was her life, living on the edge, and therefore on the edge she would stand. "We're all going to die, most likely, even if we fight. So why don't we _try_ and bring her back, try and get Amelie back so we can fight with as much power as possible? Amelie weakened Magnus with the silver; I saw it, I know she did. We can try and destroy and Magnus without her but, let's face it, how far are we going to get?"

"Five minutes ago and you were all for us fighting with Oliver, Claire," Shane reminded her gently, his hand on her arm as he moved across to her. "What's changed?"

She turned slightly to face him properly, the sun casting a shadow over her face. "I realised that we can do it, Shane. Me and Myrnin, we're scientists – _you_ guys are the fighters. I want to try and bring her back before we go running straight into battle. At least accept that we want to try," she pleaded with him, trying to get him to realise that she was going to do it anyway, with his 'permission' or not.

Eve was the one to speak, not Shane. "You really think that you can get her back?" she asked Claire, who shrugged. "You saw her, Claire; she's almost as dead as someone who _is_ dead-"

"Because she's a vampire," Shane butted in, muttering under his breath.

"_Anyway_," Eve continued, shooting a glare at Shane even though she was pretty much the same colour as a vampire herself. "I guess you can always try, but we're going to be needing to fight soon, I think."

"So what are you saying, Eve?" Claire asked almost defensively, taking that Eve meant that she didn't have the scientific capabilities to bring Amelie back. _I'll prove to her_, she thought defiantly, then realised that this was Myrnin had wanted all along. He _knew_ that she would come around and now he wanted to see how far she was willing to push for this with her friends whilst he stood there silently. Thing was that she was willing to push it all the way.

"I'm, no, _we're_ saying that if you don't succeed, you can't just give up on life," Eve said slowly, looking at the two males with her for support. "We _can_ do this without Amelie, I'm sure of it. So try and bring her back if you want, but remember that we're going to fight even if you don't manage it."

Claire sighed, torn between what she _wanted_ to do and what she should do. She should do what her friends thought because it was more than slightly far fetched to imagine that _they_ could be the curers of a Master Draug's bite, but one look at Myrnin's face made her confident that he had the belief that they could do it. One look at his eyes, filled with shining belief that they could _do_ this made her confident that there was always a chance. Something could never be ruled out so quickly, without even trying.

"We're going to try," she decided, subconsciously stepping away from Shane slightly into a more open space, a place where she had no restraints on her, simply her own ideas. "There's always a possibility that we can be the ones to succeed with this, I'm positive."

Myrnin grinned for the first time since he had put the idea forwards, rubbing his hands with glee. "Well, now that we have a mutual agreement to do this, I do propose that we begin," he smiled at Claire, who couldn't help but smile back. So much of her thought that this was a pointless idea, that there would be no chance that Amelie could ever be brought back, but you could never think that with Myrnin around. His vitality, his utter belief that she would be back if they worked, sparked her confidence to the point where she almost –_almost_ – forgot that she despised what he had done.

They were all working together and if she held grudges, she'd be the one to pay for it.

Silence reigned for a moment as both Shane and Michael stared at Claire, the former being unable to formulate in words just how much he didn't want her to do this. But he couldn't really say anything, since she had gone along with so many of his ideas before – he had to follow her.

"Wait…where are you doing this?" Eve asked the logical question because whilst Claire had assumed the lab would be safe, maybe it wasn't.

"Goth Girl, I have no time for your stupid questions," Myrnin blew her off, leaving Claire confident they would be working in the lab. "My laboratory is perfectly safe for myself and Claire to work with Amelie. As for the rest of you, you are to follow Oliver into whatever situation he wants, since you're so adamant that you want to fight," even though Claire was sure that that would have been what they wanted anyway (especially since the bruises from Myrnin's near assassination attempt of Shane still lingered prominently), it still felt strange to be deciding that she wouldn't be staying with her friends for the duration of this fight.

"You're going to face a problem before you even start thinking of what tests you can run," Michael said slowly, seeming as if he had came around, in Claire's mind, yet already thinking up every possible reason to just fight.

"What's that?" Claire asked, unable to think of anything. As she looked across at Myrnin, she could see that he hadn't countered in for any unthought of problems, either.

"Getting Oliver to let go of Amelie long enough for you to even get a needle in her is going to be hard enough, let alone you forcing him to leave her with you," Michael told them, truth in his words. He was right; it would be near impossible to get Oliver to let him go. "If…if it was Sam, you'd maybe manage, but not Oliver. He's already lost her, technically, so he's not going to let her out of his sight, at least yet."

"That's a problem," Claire began, realising that it was; however, before she could even say another word, Myrnin was pushing past her to head out of the Bloodmobile.

Through the gradually brightening light, Claire could see him storming across the grass of Founder's Square at a relatively human speed…something she realises a split second later is so that she could keep up – and the others, if they chose to go.

Sprinting after him, she managed to catch up as she was just about able to see the figure of a man with a woman in his arms near the rose garden. As they got closer, she could see his lips were feverishly moving, yet she had no idea what he was saying, let alone being able to hear him.

As Myrnin approached, he did so gently and quietly, in opposition to his usual flamboyant entrance. The only reason Claire could think of was that he wanted to be at least relatively respectful for Oliver, which she supposed she appreciated.

"Oliver, I need her," Myrnin said quietly, with a core of steel in his voice as he stepped closer.

"No," was the response.

"I can try and save her," Myrnin continued, but his tone wasn't right for the situation. There was no way that he would get Amelie back.

Claire stepped forwards quietly, slowly approaching the three vampires, her gaze dropping to Amelie. Her skin was porcelain white, near translucent, and there was an eerie sheen to it, as if the moonlight would have made it almost an icy blue colour. Everything about her was so lifeless, with the way that her arm flopped onto Oliver's leg without any conscious effort. It was almost as if she had wasted away, faded into a child's body in the modern clothing of an adult – it wasn't Amelie.

And Claire didn't like it.

"Oliver, we can try and save her," she repeated Myrnin's words, yet in a soothing tone, taking a calculated risk and dropping down to a crouched position in front of a vampire. Here, she looked up into Oliver's face and saw nothing of the hard man she normally saw. No, all she saw was a broken man, someone who had lost the love of his life – just as the woman in his arms had, all those months before.

It was a complex situation that Claire had no desire to question, especially in the given circumstances.

"There are things we can do that we're confident can bring her back to our world, Oliver, rather than result in her death," she continued, her tone still soft and gentle. "Give her to Myrnin and you can focus on the fight, fighting as much as you want," she saw the beginnings of him coming around and gave the last push, not one word uttered from Oliver's mouth as of yet.

"Be careful," was all that he said as he finally relinquished his hold on Amelie and let her slide carefully into Myrnin's capable arms. Amelie's hair fell loose as Myrnin returned to standing straight up, a waterfall of blonde hair cascading over Myrnin's arm.

"I shall," Myrnin promised and Oliver merely nodded, a sort of shield coming over his face that reminded Claire so much of Amelie.

They turned back towards the Bloodmobile, Oliver already barking orders out to the three over at the van, back to his normal self. _You wouldn't be able to tell if you didn't know_.

"So what do we do now?" Claire asked as she walked with Myrnin, slower than Oliver who had already ran back to discuss battle plans.

"We corroborate with Oliver later," Myrnin's eyes roamed the streets as if the draug could have returned already. "For now, Claire, we begin our mission. For now, we fight to keep Amelie alive."

"And then?" Claire couldn't help herself but ask what they would do after that.

And so Myrnin gave her a small smile, one laced with fear and a certain grimness. "Then we have to find the way to bring her back, Claire. and I can assure you now that it shall not be easy."

He shook his head slowly as they continued to walk, not heading towards the Bloodmobile, something Oliver turned and noted with a certain coolness to his expression. "No, blood, sweat and tears shall go into this," Myrnin muttered so quietly that Claire couldn't decide if it was for her to hear. It was the next words that made her shiver.

"But will it be enough?"

* * *

_Don't__ fav/alert/read without reviewing, thanks._

_I'll try and update soon, but there are other fics I need to update first._

_So 10 reviews for an update – and I mean 10 this time._

_Vicky xx_


	3. Lethargy

_Chapter 3:_

_Basically, I've had no free time whatsoever these past months, so I've literally just written this chapter and am posting it straight away._

_And I've read the sample chapter to Black Dawn and it's not like this, so whatever, I prefer this to that already._

_I don't own anything_

* * *

It was eerily quiet, walking through Morganville.

Even though it was barely after dusk, there wasn't a single soul out on the streets; every vampire besides Myrnin, Michael and Oliver had left Morganville, Claire thought, and it seemed that every human had locked themselves away in their homes, fearing whatever it was that the vampires feared. Claire wasn't even sure if they could leave, for she was sure that Frank would still be in operation; contingency planning didn't seem to be Amelie's strong point, as their prior conflicts had shown.

"Myrnin." Claire said his name slowly as they walked relatively quickly throughout the streets. The uneasy feeling she'd had in her stomach since before Amelie had…_fallen_ was coming back, with a greater intensity: it was all well and good when she had two extremely strong vampires and two humans who were seriously good with the massive amount of weapons they had, but now there was only a vampire who was incapacitated by carrying the most fragile, yet important part of their life and herself, neither of them heavily armed, it was pretty frightening.

"Yes, Claire?" Myrnin sounded distant, as though he was thinking through other things as they made their way towards where Granma Day's house was – and therefore his shack.

"Is there a way to secure the shack from the Draug so there's no way that they can get in?" Claire changed her question before she spoke, just incase the Draug _were_ listening somehow, and then tried to put them off. It was obvious where they were going anyway, but if they started discussing their battle tactics, then they were pretty screwed if those monsters could then influence things.

His eyes narrowed as he turned to her and she could see the thoughts whizzing through his near black, reflective eyes. Normally, those eyes, to those who barely knew the man, merely displayed his emotions; but to Claire, she could see right into his brain, almost see the way that his brain ticked. Now, she could see the ways by which he was thinking on just how they could manage to ensure that their laboratory was safe from the Draug.

"We close off the water system," he said finally, his tone firmer than it had been before. "I have enough stored water to last us for all our needs, plus other drinks that you can consume rather than water. I have a system that draws all the water in the streets and drains to Founder's Square to make the grass more luscious; I shall turn that on and warn Oliver to move his base out of the grass." He smiled slightly, as though he had thought of an ingenious idea, when it was actually mere common sense to ensure that their enemy had a harder time getting into their workplace.

"That sounds…good," Claire said, unsure about whether it would be entirely feasible – surely he had water in machines and devices already that could be dangerous – but deciding not to question him when he basically held the key to Amelie possibly surviving. She had absolutely _no_ clue what she could do to bring her back; all she knew was that there'd need to be something done to Amelie's blood, but what she didn't know.

"Nothing is good anymore, Claire; we can merely try and get through things without perishing." Myrnin wasn't the happy-go-lucky man he usually was, Claire noted with even more clarity than before. "After all, perishing indicates we _haven't_ made it through something, which I highly doubt is the purpose in going through the hardship, would you not agree?"

She nodded, deep in thought, when her random soul searching flung up another martyr in her short time in Morganville. "Like Sam, you mean," she whispered this, yet she knew that he would have no issue hearing her.

"_Exactly_ like Sam," Myrnin replied, his voice slightly softer as he said the name of the dead man who had saved them all. "Whilst I admire him for giving up his life for the woman he loved, I would much rather love people whilst still living, merely showing them my love through actions which don't result in my being unable to respond to their proclamations," his words sent a chill running through Claire that she didn't understand, yet felt that she ought to. It had been like that recently between them; she was never able to totally relax around Myrnin. She always felt like there was something that she was supposed to know…but just wasn't aware of, yet _he_ knew.

"Right, ok then, well, we need to get Amelie back before we can even consider winning this war," Claire changed the subject to try and get rid of the awkward feeling inside of her. It worked…almost. To try and clear away the last residual traces of tension from her mind, Claire focused on judging just how far they were from the shack; it couldn't be _that_ much further, but each time her foot stepped forwards, it seemed to take longer and longer.

For the first time since she had first been subjected to his driving, Claire wished that Myrnin was driving them back to the lab.

_~x~_

Ten minutes later and they were _finally_ back at the laboratory, the notable absence of street lights – Myrnin didn't like the glare to get under the…, well, soil, and annoy him – marking where they had to turn off. And then they had to walk hastily down the alleyway, Myrnin in front incase of attack, though Claire felt horribly exposed incase someone came up _behind_ her; evidently Myrnin's theory of attacking only led to being attacked head on. And anyway – he was incapacitated. It would probably have made better sense for _Claire_ to be in front…and it was a sad day that this time had come, that she could be more dangerous than a one thousand year plus old vampire.

"Clear the sofa, Claire," Myrnin ordered her as soon as she had made her way down the rickety stairs and turned on every light in the underground hideaway by the overriding switch. So she ran across the room and threw books most likely worth three million dollars apiece on the floor, wincing as they made noises no book ever should, yet not caring for they were clearing space for _Amelie_.

Even unconscious, the woman was still the most beautiful Claire had ever seen; there wasn't a curl out of place in the hair that had fallen from the hastily pulled together ponytail, and she even managed to make modern clothing work, even though it didn't suit the image of her Claire had built up. Even with her vampire pallor, she looked as though she was merely sleeping –something, Claire supposed, she technically _was_ doing…just more long-term than the word "sleeping" normally implied. The woman Claire had first considered to be over thirty, with her authority, looked barely twenty without her aura around her, the coolness with which her gaze could pierce you with. It was a scary thought, to be able to almost imagine Amelie _human_.

Myrnin set the body in his arms down carefully, as though she was made of the china she appeared to be, before darting off to do something with machines in the corner of the room. All Claire could see out of the corner of her eye was that he was moving them with ease out of the way, yet she couldn't see what he was looking for. _Probably another of his secret hiding places_, she rolled her eyes and looked back at the woman – _girl_ – on the sofa in front of her, reaching out to cover her with a blanket that was to hand. It was a stupid idea – vampires couldn't _get_ cold – but Claire couldn't shake the image she had conjured of Amelie when she was human, and therefore she was going to treat her that delicately.

"Water is off." Myrnin's voice came out of nowhere and Claire jumped when she looked to her left to see him standing there. He seemed to have been standing there for months; that was how relaxed he appeared, though his forehead was crinkled as his gaze changed to focus on Amelie. "And I've disconnected all the leads to the machines that came from outside sources. All the water possible is going towards the Square, so you ought to ring Oliver to tell him that, and everything is now linked into my stored water source." He handed her his phone with a prim smile that didn't particularly fit the situation, though Claire couldn't help but feel that he was enjoying this part just _slightly_.

"Why can't _you_ ring Oliver?" she protested, not wanting to have to speak to Mr Bite Your Head Off if she didn't have to. "After all, it is _your_ idea to send all the water there, not mine!"

"You are my apprentice, my assistant; you do as _I_ say," he reminded her slightly forcefully. "And anyway, I have plans to fulfil, to do with setting up Amelie. You wouldn't have a clue. Therefore, _you_ are to ring Oliver – and promptly."

Claire sighed, admitting defeat, and turned away from the main lab area to go ring Oliver; she didn't need the pressure of having to analyse Amelie for Oliver, nor have Myrnin possibly distract her, when she was on the phone to _Oliver_. That wouldn't be the best combination and would probably result in civil war within the extremely depleted numbers of people currently fighting the Draug.

"Hello?" Oliver's voice was eager on the other end of the phone, even to speak to Myrnin, as he picked up on the first ring. "Myrnin…oh, it's you, Claire. What do you want?" his tone turned dejected as he recognised Claire without her even speaking, as though he realised that if Myrnin had important news, he wouldn't delegate it to Claire to pass on.

"How did you…oh, never mind; Myrnin asked me to call you to warn you all that you should stay away from the grass on Founder's Square," Claire began to ask about how Oliver had recognised her, but gave up. She didn't, to be frank, care when there was so much else going on. "He's got this system set up that sends all the rainwater and water from around the lab to that area of land - I think it was what made that land always green – so there's the chance that the Draug could move there."

The sigh heaved on the other end of the line was deeper than Claire had ever heard before. "Why on _earth_ would the fool do that when he knows that we're already semi set up here?" Oliver growled down the phone, his tone sending shivers through Claire – shivers of fear. This was the fear that only Oliver could instil in her; the fear that he was more than capable of ripping her apart and wouldn't, probably, feel regret afterwards.

"I don't know; I think the system was already in place from before," Claire replied when it became clear that Oliver wanted an answer. "You can just move into the building, though, and use the portal to get around if you have to, right?" she added on, remembering the proximity of the Elder's building to the Square.

"Yes, that's what I just considered, yet we shall have to be extremely careful when using the portals," Oliver conceded, giving Claire the impression that he was already planning on moving into the building that was more like a fort than a council building. Claire had only ever seen the front few rooms, which were probably bigger than the entire area of the Glass House, but she had a feeling that the scale drawing she had of the building seen was _not_ to size.

"Ok, well, I should get back," Claire said awkwardly, not knowing what to say now she had passed on the message.

"Claire, promise me something," Oliver's voice was surprising; gone was the anger and frustration. Only hurt remained, hurt and fear – emotions, Claire presumed, were focused on Amelie.

"Uh…ok?"

"Promise me that you'll do everything _you_ can to save her," he said urgently. "Don't just rely on the madman; he may be a genius in his realm, yet he has a tendency to overlook crucial things, even if he mentioned them first. If it comes down to it, I can always turn you, if he gets too violent and dangerous." The iota of humour in his final words was not appreciated by Claire, who had been offered this many times before…and it didn't lighten the mood at all.

"I promise," she replied after a short pause, in which she wondered just _how_ she would be expected to persuade Myrnin that he was wrong and she was right. "Good luck out there, Oliver."

"Thank you." This was the most civil response she thought she had ever gotten from him, yet it was the most heartbreaking. She didn't particularly like Oliver, but she respected him, and the knowledge that he could die without her knowing was almost enough to get her to say she'd miss him.

Almost. Even _she_ wouldn't say that to a vampire who had tried to kill her more times than she cared to remember.

"Bye," she said and hung up without another word, the screen fading into darkness as soon as the call had ended. Then she walked back across the lab to where Myrnin had somehow managed to rearrange every machine in the place to be within ten metres of Amelie…yet there was somehow still space for them to be able to get in close to her.

In one of the discarded boxes on the floor, Claire picked up a retro looking stethoscope and held it in her hand; it was heavier than she'd imagined, and colder as well, the metal drawing all of the heat into it to leave the outside cold.

"Can we use this?" she asked without thinking, her head foggy with sleep deprivation that just came on. She hadn't slept for days, since she didn't count the day she spent as a ghost as time for her to catch up on her sleep, and the wave of sleep loss just hit her.

"She is a _vampire_, Claire; she does not have a heartbeat," Myrnin snapped at her, his eyes flashing red for a moment because he considered her question to be that imbecilic.

Claire leaned backwards, reeling from the shock of _Myrnin_ snapping at her like he did; that wasn't what he did with her. Normally, even when he was in a 'crazy' mood, he would explain it to her with more rationality than he just addressed her with. All this did for her, however, was remind her that she desperately required sleep, or she would end up just like the statue on the sofa, not moving whatsoever.

"I…I'm sorry, I forgot," she whispered, leaning on the back of the sofa heavily to prevent herself falling over. "I guess the adrenaline has just worn off. I'm so _tired_," she muttered, her voice barely audible by the end, yet Myrnin waved her off.

"There are energy bars and the such in the kitchen – please feel free to go help yourself," he wasn't his usual self, putting Claire's needs first. No, he was all business, moving even as he spoke to her. "You cannot sleep yet, Claire. I understand that you're tired – I am mentally tired – yet you _must_ help me with these experiments so we can get a basic idea as to what we are going to be doing, in our attempts to save Amelie's life." When he spoke again, his voice was much softer and gentler, more in line with the way he usually addressed her, and he actually made eye contact.

For a brief second, she could see into his thoughts and realised that, like Oliver, Myrnin was scared. He was scared that Amelie could die, that he or _Oliver_ would be left in charge of the mission and that all hell would break loose. Whilst Oliver was a good planner – Claire knew this first hand – and one extremely good warrior, she had a feeling that the plans would go worse than even Amelie's did.

"Ok," Claire agreed begrudgingly, rubbing her eyes to try and wake herself up. "I'll go caffeine myself up and we can get sorted, ok?"

Myrnin nodded, focusing once again on the machine closest to him as he fiddled with some pipe in the side of it. "Claire," he called through suddenly, just as the kettle began to boil in the kitchenette. "Could you perhaps find me the nail clippers in the bathroom? I require them to cut Amelie's nails. They're lovely, you see, but just not practical for my clipping these wires to her," he explained as Claire emerged from the kitchenette to go look for these clippers.

As she walked, he heard her mutter, "Now I can't sleep and we're planning on clipping Amelie's nails. This is more like a sleepover than a rescue mission."

All he did was laugh.

_10 reviews and I'll update_

_Don't__ favourite or alert without reviewing _

_Vicky xx_


	4. Discoveries

_Chapter 4_

_There are no excuses for updating this late, other than the fact that I've basically been bogged down with school, life and other issues that have been cropping up._

* * *

Within an hour or two, the preliminary tests were complete, all forty three or them, and finally Claire could feel there was a chance to relax for a while. The results of the tests would be out in another hour or two, so she felt that that was more than enough time for her to grab a short nap to try and rejuvenate – even for just that short period of time. A short period of time asleep was better than being awake, worrying and fretting about things that she couldn't control.

When Myrnin returned from taking a short trip to ground level to assess whether any Draug were in the vicinity, Claire took this chance to make her request; she wasn't used to having to _ask_ to go to sleep, but she was sure that this situation required it. He had pulled the "rank" card earlier, when she didn't want to talk to Oliver on the phone, and even when she didn't want to be sticking needles in Amelie's arm – harder than normal, given the fact that she had vampire skin – he had reminded her that he was in charge, and she had to do what he said.

"Can I sleep, just for a little while?" she tried to put enough of a plead into her voice that he would perhaps acknowledge and allow her to have what she wanted; it had worked in the past, she knew. "It's not like I can do anything in the meantime, besides try and find Draug and get myself killed."

"Something that wouldn't be beneficial to the cause, I do agree." He apprehended her thoughtfully, his eyes trying to read hers. She couldn't tell what his were saying; rather than their confusion and the such from before, he seemed even more determined, and yet also more unsure about what they would do. Claire thought that, perhaps, Myrnin didn't know _what_ to do, and that everything he did would be instinctive; maybe that was why Oliver said that she had to step in, if she thought he had overlooked something obvious, something he had already said but then proceeded to forget.

"So…can I?" she realised that he hadn't actually given her answer inbetween staring at her and her trying to understand what his emotions were – or he had, and she just hadn't heard him…or seen his lips move.

His lips curved into an approximation of a smile, something better defined as a ghost, because it was certainly nothing like his usual one, and he said, "certainly, Claire. I wouldn't want you to fall asleep when we actually have work to do, or when the Draug come to try and kill us. Which they will, I'm sure, especially if you go out looking for them," he tried to add a touch of humour to the humourless situation, something Claire appreciated, and it raised the slightly flat mood in the room.

"Thanks, Myrnin," she managed to smile back in response, her eyes unlocking themselves from his and briefly looking down at Amelie. All their tests hadn't left a single scratch on her, and it was strange to think that there were no physical marks of Magnus' attack on her, save for two tiny holes. "Where?" she realised that, because he had insisted she had to stay here, she had nowhere to sleep.

His brow furrowed in confusion for a moment, before he understood what she wanted. His first idea was to suggest the couch – she could see his mouth forming the word – until he remembered that Amelie was on it, and that perhaps Claire and Amelie sharing wouldn't be the best idea. So he turned around, in the direction of the small kitchenette, toilet and other room he had, and pointed out the door where she had stayed all those months ago, when she had been forced to fix the machine. "In the back room, I believe, for that is the only spare place I have. I shall rest on the chair, so you need not worry that I will not put myself in your resting place."

She nodded and said her thanks before walking to the room, hoping that her first sleep since the turning of their war wouldn't bring her _too_ many nightmares.

_~x~_

As far as she considered the short sleep, Claire didn't think it had gone too badly; it was too short for nightmares to turn into full fledged ones, and the bad memories only intermingled amongst the random conversations she had with Myrnin, Oliver and, for some reason, even _Sam_. This last man's presence made her sure that there was no way that she could have been prophesising, because he was _dead_, and yet she could do not much more than contemplate that point before there was a rapping on the door to indicate she ought to get up.

Incase the incessant knocking didn't alert Claire to the fact that she was supposed to be back in the lab, Myrnin felt it necessary to call through the door, "I don't want to speak loudly, for fear the enemy may find us, but we must continue working, Claire. _Do_ hurry up, unless you want me to use you as bait for when they…ahh, you're here." As she opened the door, he ceased his ramblings about what he would use her for, ignoring the look of irritation on her face.

"Shut up," she told him straight, her voice flat. "You're not going to use me as bait, so that's the end of it. You're the bait, if it comes down to it. I bet Oliver would agree, definitely."

He smiled, and this time, it was more on par with his normal emotions; there was a small twinkle in his eye that reminded her of the times when he would edit an experiment's results, just to make her seem stupid, which he did a lot of the time, and she felt, for a second or two, that everything was back to normal. "And, dear Claire, what makes you think that Oliver would commission _me_ for bait, rather than you?"

She grinned for a second, running her hand along the wooden bar that ran halfway between the ceiling of the underground lair, just between the bathroom and the bedroom. "Because the Draug want _vampires_, rather than humans – there comes a time for us to be less in demand than you, and this is the time. Also, Oliver likes me more. He says that you remind him of idiots and everything he's tried to forget in his life."

Myrnin looked stunned for a moment, not realising that she was making up things that were, in fact, probably true. "Ahh, that makes sense; well, if it comes down to between yourself and Oliver, ensure that you win, and if you have to push him into Magnus for that, then so be it. Though, of course, I would prefer the situation not to sink to something like that."

"Have you got some results or something?" Claire asked him, wondering whether they would get onto any work or not, and merely continue to discuss the likelihood of their deaths. This was a scenario that was all the more likely, if they didn't get Amelie back from near death.

"Yes…and there's nothing conclusive to be drawn from them," he replied sadly, walking alongside Claire the short distance back to the main lab. "Everything is the reading I was expecting as normal…even taking in discrepancies for her height and weight, things that even affect vampires, she is perfectly average. There _has_ to be a way for her to come back that isn't linked to her physical state of being!"

Claire reached the table with the printed out sheets first, and scanned them; even though she believed Myrnin, she wanted to be involved in every part of this, and so wanted to ensure that his analysis was one hundred percent correct. Naturally, it was. She didn't understand why there was nothing wrong with Amelie physically; she just didn't understand the effects Magnus' saliva – she didn't know what else to call whatever was secreted from his mouth – had on the vampire body, because nobody who had been bitten by a Master Draug was still around.

The only one was lying on the couch, immobile, and there was no chance that they could get into _her_ head, could they?

"Perhaps…perhaps we must start analysing brain movements, see if the poison has affected her brain anywhere," Myrnin suggested, reaching the place Claire was on her way to, faster than she could have gotten there. "If it has, for example, disabled the ability to control basic motor functions, then we could develop something to re-enable this part of her, to hopefully restore her to full strength. If not…then we at least know that the poison affects something else."

"I think that we should do that, yeah," Claire agreed, her eyes involuntarily moving to rest on Amelie's figure. She thought she was just imagining the way that Amelie seemed a little frailer, her face more gaunt, because she was just looking for differences, wasn't she? The results had shown that there was nothing to indicate that the poison affected the physical appearance; if Amelie was getting worse, it wouldn't show by the way that she looked.

"Thankfully, I stored an MRI scanner underground, in fear that the hospital would try and steal it, because they were claiming a _shortage_ or something, so we can get started within another half hour or so," he said thoughtfully, his eyes already on the place in the floor where his secret hatch was hidden.

All Claire could do was sputter. "You mean to say that you _stole_ an MRI scanner?" she confirmed, recalling the mystery as to where the second scanner went from Morganville General. "And then when they wanted it _back_, you decided to hide it, and then probably threaten their lives if they tried to tell someone that you had stolen it, right?"

At least he had the decency to look at least slightly shameful, even if he couldn't look at her, as she hit the nail on the head about what had happened. "Well…I _did_ give them ample money to go and purchase another machine, if they desired to. I just needed it at the time, and now I need it again, so it has worked out well, yes?"

She didn't bother to reply, simply began to tap her fingers on the desk as she waited for him to bring the MRI scanner up; after everything that had happened down in the underground lair, there was no _way_ that Claire was going down there. It was bad enough that she'd had to return after the first visit, so if a visit down there happened to be optional (as there wasn't a chance that she'd be helpful with carrying something like an MRI scanner, was there?) she would take the opportunity to stay above that lower level of the underground lair. She could cite needing to ensure Amelie didn't up and disappear as her reasoning, not that she particularly needed it because Myrnin was already heading down through the hatch without even looking back at her.

Yet she couldn't help but give him a reproachful glance when he returned merely five minutes later.

"I thought that you wouldn't want to go down there, and anyway, I didn't want to be lifting you up and down," he shrugged as he managed to carry the portable MRI scanner up with him, jumping in one fluid movement. For a moment, Claire was amazed at his litheness, until she remembered that he was old, so he had had plenty of practise, and she couldn't be jealous because she had turned down that way of life. There was no way that she was going to be a vampire – especially now, when vampires were in more danger than humans – unless her life depended on it, and probably not even then, because of what Shane would say.

"Good, because I wasn't going to go, even if you tried to make me." she raised her eyebrows as she retorted, walking over to plug the machine into the nearest socket without Myrnin asking her to. As he apprehended her with a surprised look, she smiled and shrugged. "What? It's not like it makes a difference who plugs it in, right? And you were closing the hatch over, so I thought I may as well do it."

He didn't reply, merely set up the machine – something Claire trusted him to do, since she had never touched one of these in her life and knew she was more likely to break it than Myrnin (something which was a unique situation) – and then moved Amelie, complete with the couch, over to be underneath where the MRI scanner would move. Because it was a portable one, there was no bed, hence the couch, Claire thought, and she knew that it would be safer for her to be in another room, because of the radiation.

"Shall I turn on the scanner thing on the computer and then take it into the bedroom to get the scans?" she suggested, when it became apparent that Myrnin had forgotten to do this important part of the setting up.

Turning to look at her, he seemed confused as their eyes met, evidently never having done this part before, before he nodded slowly. "Yes…do that…aren't the rays dangerous to you, anyway?" he recalled this titbit of information, smiling slightly as Claire confirmed it, before going back to muttering under his breath as he set up the machine. Claire couldn't pick up any of it, though she had the feeling that it was more personal than anything she'd ever heard him say. This situation was harder on him than even the one with Ada had been, for now it was everyone's life at stake not just his lover's, and his decision to stay and fight had been to the surprise of everyone.

Within another three minutes, Claire had managed to connect the computer to the scanner, thanking the tricky art of hooking up the scanner in the university to her laptop as the reason why she could do it so fast, and was all set up in the bedroom, her legs dangling off the still warm bed from where she had lay. "All ready to go!" she called through, hoping that her voice hadn't been _too_ loud to attract the attention of the Draug who were probably circling up on the ground. Their patterns were probably something she could do to study, see where they went, what they did, and could even be the path to their destruction, if they could manage it.

The whirring of the machine was loud to her ears, even with the door shut tightly, and it continued for the next forty or so minutes. Scans kept popping up, different parts of a brain which seemed to look _very_ different to that of the regular one she saw in bio; it must have been where the differences between humans and vampires were the most prominent, she thought, because they were pretty similar on the outsides. It wasn't completely unrecognisable, Amelie's brain, but it was certainly different enough for her to question whether it was normal or not (for a vampire, she meant) and whether or not it had been affected by the poison.

Finally, the noise stopped, and she was able to uncover her right ear, the one closest to the door and the lab. She could hear the sound of the couch being moved back, as well as the slowing down of the machine's fans or whatever it was that took the images, and soon Myrnin was coming through, opening the door without hesitation – it wasn't like she was in here for comfort or rest, was it?

"Let me see!" he demanded impatiently, and she handed him the expensive laptop, hoping with all her heart that he wouldn't break it, like he had the last four. It was a stupid wish, especially with everything going on and their current predicament, but she _really_ had had a hard time sourcing that laptop and all its programmes, and there wasn't a chance that she could get another one in the next few days. Or, perhaps, not even at all, if the war ended faster than she thought it would.

For the next few minutes, Myrnin flicked between the photos, making the odd comment under his breath, ones that Claire felt weren't for her ears. It was only after he had probably been through them all three times that he looked as if he had figured it out. It was with a certain grimness that he looked up at Claire, and her heart sank; she could tell he knew what it was, but whether they could sort it was a different manner. Then again, they had managed to actually determine what they had to focus on, something which was better than even an hour ago! It was amazing that they had reached here thus far, but they had always worked together well, reaching their intended goal faster than he had in any other team, so maybe that was why.

"Look, Claire," he said, turning the screen to face her, pointing at a specific part of the brain that she didn't recognise; it wasn't on any of the pictures of human brains. "This is the part of the brain that, in a vampire, is much more pronounced. It controls the emotions we feel, and how strong they are, as well as how fast our moods can change. In Amelie, this is different…it isn't anything I've seen before. I don't know what we need to do, but it seems as though she almost needs more _attention_, something I've never known about her before."

Instantly, Claire understood. She knew what it was that Amelie needed, though it was completely insane and ridiculous and _impossible_ to get. Oliver couldn't give it, she was sure of it.

"I know what she needs," she replied, not needing to hear more information. Myrnin looked astounded, and was about to interrupt when she continued. "I know, Myrnin, because I can tell. It's obvious. The poison attacks the vampire's mind and affects the part of them that can't get what it needs; for Amelie, this is attention…and it's attention of a certain sort, something that she can't get anymore.

"She wants _love_."

* * *

_Please don't favourite/alert/read without reviewing, thanks!_

_Vicky xx_


	5. Decisions

_Chapter 5:_

_I think it's almost exactly 2 weeks since I updated, and though I got hardly any reviews, I figured I'd just write another chapter and update. Though I'd prefer more reviews, to be honest._

* * *

All Myrnin did was stare at her.

"_Love_?" he repeated, as if he couldn't believe his ears. "You think that love will bring her back? Love, something even humans can live without, can cause Amelie to come back from this state of…this state of _non-being_?"

As Myrnin repeated her words, Claire had to admit that it sounded more than a little crazy. After all, he was right; millions of humans survived each day without love, so why was it that the only thing fatal to a vampire could be caused by what was normally the simplest of things? People, vampires, they didn't crave for things that they had never had; they craved for things that had been in their possession and that they no longer had, and _that_ was why they would die. Things they _had_ indicated a past tense, that they no longer had them, and since most vampires had, when the Draug had previously destroyed them, lived alone, there would have been nobody to fight for them. But Amelie had people – she had _more_ than enough people, people who loved her, supported her, or just wanted to ensure that she didn't die, so that Oliver wouldn't get control of Morganville.

It was easy to classify why Shane and Eve were fighting: between the evils, Amelie (and even Oliver) was less of an evil than Magnus was. She wouldn't destroy _them_, at least, and the others knew that when Magnus was finished with the vampires, he would turn on the humans, and that the world would never be safe again.

Michael…right back at the beginning of her time in Morganville, she would have said that he would have been of the same viewpoint as the others – even less than a year ago, she would have said the same thing, she thought. But…but since Sam had died, since Michael had understood what other people (_Amelie_) had gone through since he died, she felt that there was just a part of Michael that worried for Amelie. It wasn't for him – definitely not – but Claire theorised that Sam's death had made Michael worry for all the things Sam had loved, and that included Amelie, most definitely. As for herself, Claire wasn't entirely sure. It was strange, but she didn't feel as if she was _just _there to ensure that Morganville survived; it was almost as though she felt a need to save Amelie, partially because of all the times that the woman had saved her (discounting the fact that most of the savings came from situations _Amelie_ had put her in) and Claire was well aware of the fact that if they didn't hold off the Draug long enough for herself and Myrnin to save Amelie, there was no point.

Everyone else…well…it was obvious that Oliver loved Amelie – _that_ much had to be evident to every person within a ten mile radius – and Myrnin had been her closest (and probably _only_) friend for centuries; it made sense that they both wanted to save her. But what Claire figured would annoy them both the most, particularly Myrnin with the theory she had came up with, was that neither of them could save Amelie. No, Claire had decided that there was only one man who had ever existed, who could be enough to bring Amelie back. Only one man's touch she yearned for more than anything else – and that man was dead.

"It has to be, Myrnin." Claire's voice was far away as she responded, her thoughts back in the days when seeing Sam's ginger hair wasn't _just_ in photographs and his cheesy smile wasn't only in her memories. "What else would she want that she couldn't have? If you were to say Oliver, then that wouldn't work, because he was with her outside the Bloodmobile, and nothing happened. I get that she probably needs some sort of drug to wake her up anyway, and we can work on that, but what happens when we get that? What happens…what happens when nothing changes with her?"

"So what are you suggesting – that we get a recording of Sam when he was alive and _play_ it to her?" he snapped at Claire, his eyes filled with some sort of confused rage. She could understand why; she had figured it out, after all, and it made no sense, because why would a vampire _want_? "It is _impossible_, Claire, to get that, because there is not one single recording of his voice! Do you not think that I _tried_ to do that, to help Amelie when she was suffering from the terrible memory of that night in the Square? Do you not think that I tried to help my oldest, my dearest friend to forget that she could have done something, or have been killed herself, in order to save the only man she loved? There is no way, Claire, no way at all, because I doubt that playing a recording would work anyway." By the end, his voice sounded dejected, the rage directed more inward than at Claire, because she could understand that he was still hurting that he had never been able to help Amelie through her grief.

She hesitated and stepped forwards to be merely a metre or so away from Myrnin; it wasn't wise to be closer, not when he was in such a mood. They both looked down at Amelie's still frame, the one that seemed to be slightly paler than even an hour ago, her figure more drawn. "I was never thinking of that anyway, Myrnin," she muttered, though she knew he could hear her without a shadow of a doubt. "I…I was thinking…no, never mind. You'll just shoot _that_ down as well, even though you know that I'm right. You know that she needs what she desires the most, like that stupid fairytale, and that nothing else will work to bring her back. You won't listen to me. So we may as well give in."

Testing the theory she had been building up about Myrnin and his value of her, as well as his belief in her idea about Amelie, she took a step towards the door.

Nothing.

She did it again, slowly again, and knew that there was no reaction from Myrnin; he didn't care, she realised. He would let her go to her death, let the Draug have her, because she had insulted him and implied many things about him.

So it was understandable that she screamed when he was standing merely thirty centimetres in front of her, right?

"Shush, do you _want_ to remind the Draug that we are down here?" his entire expression seemed to reek of irritation, as well as a certain embarrassment as he looked at her, and it made her shiver. It wasn't because of his proximity – though he looked angry, she was certain that he would never hurt her, no matter how stupid that sounded – but because of the way that he looked to be more embarrassed with himself…and that made no sense whatsoever.

"Are you ready to accept that I'm right?" she retorted, raising her eyebrows and placing her hands on her hips in an almost defiant manner.

"Easy, Claire," he chastised her, yet she held her ground, deciding that it was _damn_ sure time that he started to listen to her. Oliver had told her to ensure that she got her ideas across, and she would certainly ensure that Myrnin took them into account. He knew a lot about science – more than she ever would know, she knew, even if she became a vampire – but she knew more about emotions and how women felt. Myrnin was, after all, a man, and the one relationship she was aware of (and she doubted that past ones were anything more than a fling) was little better than dysfunctional. And that was the best word to be able to describe it. Whenever Claire thought about Ada, the only word that sprung to mind regularly was _crazy_.

"No, it's not _easy_, Claire, it's you're going to listen to me, no matter what," she continued on her defiant streak, paying great attention to the look of shock – and, for a moment, _awe_ – that passed across Myrnin's face. "Oliver told me that, if I had a good idea, I could force it, and it's a bloody good one. It makes sense. Your analysis of the MRI scan shows that it's that region of the brain, and since when have my hunches been wrong?" as he made to answer her, she continued hastily, "ok, don't answer that. But seriously, just let us _try_. And then…and then we can do whatever you want."

Their eyes met, and it was as if everything melted away. Claire could see everything that Myrnin was feeling, and the way that he knew it _was_ a good idea, and that the only reason he wanted to oppose her was because _he_ hadn't thought of the idea. He knew that she truly did believe in her idea, and that she would do anything to try it – and if that meant she recruited Oliver, then he knew that she would.

If Claire was willing to work with Oliver over Myrnin – Oliver being the one who had threatened her life _and_ tried to kill her more than even Myrnin – then the crazy alchemist knew that it was time to be agreeing with the assistant who was more like his fellow scientist nowadays.

"Recordings are out of the question," Myrnin stated slowly, and Claire knew instantly that she had won. "And there is no way to _fake_ someone's being there. Even Michael wouldn't do; he is different, after all, and Amelie is too well acquainted with Sam for us to pass off someone else as a forgery, even with his scent in the room."

All Claire got from this was images that she _really_ didn't want to see.

"Then what do we do?" she asked, realising the impossible part of her plan. It was all well and good, knowing what they needed to be able to bring Amelie back; it was a completely different issue getting her a dead man who could speak to her and wake her up. But as she thought of this, she knew that Myrnin's thoughts would be going in a similar direction to hers…and they would get there before-

"We have to dig up his body and…and we have to bring him back to life." Thankfully for Claire's own conscience, even Myrnin looked a little horrified at the thought of defiling the grave of a dead man – let alone a dead man like Sam Glass. "I know, Claire, it sounds absolutely horrific, but what other choice do we have? There is no other way for her to hear Sam's voice than for it to be from him…so we must bring Sam back from the dead."

"No." she couldn't handle this; it was fine when it was the abstract idea that Sam would be Amelie's saviour – but if it was something like _this_, something that would cause them to alter events in the past by bringing someone _back to life_, then she couldn't deal with it. "I…I can't do that."

He was kind in the way that he looked at her, all previous annoyance eradicated from his expression. "Claire, this was _your_ idea, and it is a good one. It is the only way; it is either this, or we all die. We can only fight Magnus off for so long without Amelie, after all; before, we wouldn't have gotten even Oliver and Michael out of the pool if Amelie had been lost to us. You have to understand, _there is no other way_." The emphasis he put on these final words cracked through Claire's resolve to have no part in this, because she couldn't fight with someone who believed so entirely in what he was saying. She had never been able to stop herself agreeing with him, not when she understood his thought processes and why he wanted to do what he did; it wasn't always right, and she hated herself for the lack of ability to say _no_, but it was right…and it usually worked.

He had her beaten. She knew he knew that before she did, with the grin that was spreading across his face. "Fine, we'll do this, but I'm not happy about this, Myrnin."

His expression darkened, even as he continued to look at her, and she got the feeling that he was studiously looking away from Amelie. "Neither am I, little Claire," he murmured, his voice filled with emotions she seldom associated with Myrnin: self hatred, remorse, desire for another option. "Yet if we desire not to perish, this is the path we must take."

A movement in the back of the laboratory caught her eye, and she knew that Myrnin must have seen it – what _was_ it? Evidently it wasn't an enemy, as even Myrnin would have reacted before now, and by the time Claire had turned around, she could see Oliver stepping through the portal, his expression harrowed. Part of her hoped that he hadn't heard any of their conversation; the other part of her hoped that he had. After all, he had to know that he had no chance with Amelie, not when her heart's desire was the man who had died for her.

"Have you made any progress yet?" he barked across at them, and Claire felt Myrnin stiffen beside her, everyone's eyes suddenly moving to Amelie. "The Square has all the water possible going to it; we've locked and secured all of the front of the Elder's Council building and ensured that the front rooms are not used. If you come to visit, direct the portal into the area near to the kitchens; _Collins_ decided that this was best, because he wanted food." Something about Oliver's eyes gave Claire the impression that, if things were different, Shane would no longer be breathing right now, because of what he had said to Oliver, and probably demanded. She wasn't bothered, though, which worried her; Shane was safe enough – at least _he_ didn't have to go and start digging up bodies of innocent vampires.

_Shit_, she realised, _what if they decompose_?

Myrnin's expression was haughty as he refocused on Oliver, as so to defend what he had done. "We…we have conducted preliminary investigations and our findings are pointing us towards a hypothesis, which could mean we are near to our end goal." Claire noted how nothing about Sam had been mentioned, and she knew then that Oliver hadn't heard anything; if he had, she was sure that things wouldn't still be this civil.

Oliver didn't buy it, though. "You mean to say that in almost twelve hours, two _brilliant_ scientists haven't even the slightest idea as to what they are doing with _Amelie_?" he sneered, and Claire found herself barely keeping a lid on the secret. "If so, then what was that _cosy_ chat you were both just conducting? Either you know something, or you've decided that whatever you two _have_ is more important than the woman on that sofa over there."

Instantly, Claire felt her cheeks colour a vivid red, as she processed what Oliver had said: he thought that they were in a _relationship_, and that she was cheating on _Shane_. Shane, the one she loved, the one she had persuaded Amelie (and Oliver) to stop from killing him on _numerous_ occasions, and someone she would never cheat on.

To Myrnin's credit _again_, he had the same appearance, though his response was not quite so 'teenage girl'-esque as hers was. "If you would like to come and discover how to save Amelie, then feel free, by all means," he replied, his tone chilling – as cold as Amelie's could go, Claire realised. "If not, I would prefer for you to take your slanderous_ lies_ and leave, so we can focus on saving the person you profess to _love_." the look Myrnin shot Oliver was something that Claire couldn't put her finger on; it was a mixture of anger and contempt, pride and possibly even a little _jealousy_, though Claire wasn't entirely sure if she had read that right.

Oliver's own face clouded over before reaching a point of near neutrality, and his voice was the same 'grey blur' when he spoke again, "well, I see I have wasted my time, coming to check on your progression. Fear not, I shall not make this mistake again."

He turned on his heel – evidently he was wearing his preferred 'olden days' clothing, Claire thought – and was about to stalk through the portal when Myrnin called, "wait, Oliver, I _do_ have a request."

"_Yes_?" Oliver's tone, now, was murderous, his expression equally thundery, as he turned around to face them again. Claire shivered involuntarily at the extremity of the emotions within his face, and she knew that both vampires noticed this. "Know I am not your glorified servant, Myrnin; if Amelie dies, _I_ rule – _not_ you. I am her ruling subject now, not you. If she dies, you no longer have all the perks you consider yourself to rightfully have; if we destroy Magnus and Amelie is dead in the process, know you will have _nothing_."

"There is absolutely no need for such dire threats," Myrnin replied, his voice edging closer to normal, after his outburst. "I merely desired to request a map of the town, that's all. If you could have one of your fellows send it through, that would be most helpful."

Claire knew Oliver was curious as to why they wanted a map, yet he was still angered about Myrnin's comment so didn't want to ask. It got to the point where she was sure he was about to ask, when she heard Myrnin say, "chop, chop! I certainly don't have all day, and Claire is a human after all; she could be dead within a few more years. And shut the portal on your way out, Oliver; it's causing a terrible draught."

The look Oliver flashed him was ten times worse than the one before; every time she thought he had reached a new level of anger, he seemed to surpass himself, and make her remember that there was no way to understand a vampire until you were one.

Thankfully, it seemed that becoming a Draug couldn't be caused by genetic changes, and all plans by members of Morganville to turn _her_ had been abandoned.

As soon as the portal closed, Myrnin turned to look at Claire. "You don't think I was wrong to not inform him about Sam, do you?"

"No. If you did, you would merely remind him that his love for Amelie is far greater than anything she could feel for him. It would possibly make him wonder why he was fighting to the death; he may be a war leader, Myrnin, but he still has to feel _something_, otherwise he would be as bad as Bishop was." She was confident that she was right, because there was no nagging feeling inside of her that would have been irritating her, if she had been wrong to dismiss Oliver's need to know about Amelie needing Sam. Sam's return could be something put in the middle of other conversations, probably revolving around Amelie being back and how they could attack the Draug.

"Yes, speaking _of_ our plan, since you came to the conclusion about Sam so much quicker than myself, has the same section of your brain managed to conclude how we bring him back to life?" as he spoke, Claire realised that Myrnin was still slightly irritated that she had discovered the key first – but he had always been like that; it was nothing new.

"I…I considered electricity," she said meekly. "After all, although his heart no longer _beats_, if electricity was passed through his entire body, it could be enough to restart his brain. So long as there was a feed of blood passing through him at the same time – after all, he _was_ drained, so blood is an issue – there is a chance that that could work."

Myrnin looked thoughtful, and Claire felt that it must be _too_ good to be true that her idea would be right for the second time in a row. "That is certainly a plausible theory," he agreed, though he didn't sound completely sure about it. "However…if I remember the book correctly, there _was_ something about necromancy in it, something about returning the dead. The book is hidden away – even Oliver has access now – and it would be too suspicious to request it, yet I know that there is a requirement for the blood of the murderer, if the body is drained, and that it must be near the quantity drained in the first place."

Things were moving too fast for Claire, and she had to move across the room to take a seat. Firstly, it was the whole 'we need to dig up Sam' thing, and now she was being expected to bring back Bishop from the dead to take his blood to then save Sam? Even Claire had to admit, Bishop's return would merely add to their problems, not solve any.

"There's no chance that I'm draining you to then bring Bishop back – whose body, by the way, is in ashes after you used that gun on him – to then drain _him_ to save Sam, no _way_." Her tone expressed such an air of finality that Myrnin couldn't help but laugh. "_What_? It isn't funny, Myrnin!"

"My dear, I meant nothing of the sort," he replied, still chuckling slightly. "Blood of a relative is perfectly adequate, and thankfully, we have one lying on this sofa. His sire's blood shall be more than similar for this ritual, though it may take a day or two, in order to take blood from her and continue to replenish her system, for she holds less blood than Sam, after all."

That seemed so simple that Claire had to almost laugh. There she was, overcomplicating things as per usual, and Myrnin had considered the much easier option, one that wouldn't involve finding particles of body to then have to reattach together into a body to then drain…no, that would be impossible, anyway.

"Your map, sir." A voice came from the portal, and Claire looked up to see someone who looked awfully like Theo, yet younger, standing there with a book in his hand. "It's the largest I could find; Oliver wasn't specific as to why you needed it, so I felt you would be best served with the most in detail. Everywhere is on it, including the graveyard and the tunnels underground."

He threw the book, and Myrnin caught it effortlessly, as though this was a daily sport for him. With merely a nod of his head at the carrier, he dismissed him, waiting until the portal had completely disappeared before opening it with a relish she hadn't seen for almost an hour. "Page forty three," he murmured, flicking through the pages faster than Claire had ever even seen a book move; she knew he could read what was on every page, whereas she would have been struggling to even figure out that there was more than just a blur passing by.

Sometimes, she really wished that she had vampire eyesight.

Making noises to himself, Myrnin set the book on the table and began to study the page which had the plan of the graveyard on it, his expression changing one to of extreme concentration. Claire had no desire to attempt to translate what he was saying, or what he was even doing, so she headed across to the kitchenette to take some food and drink; she hadn't realised it before, but she had barely eaten for days, and it wasn't as if she was going to do anything else, was it?

_~x~_

Within an hour, Myrnin had planned everything out, much to Claire's disgust. Apparently, Sam's grave was in a rather inconvenient place, yet he had managed to find a way to get the portal in closer, apparently hovering in mid-air, for a short period of time; thankfully, Frank hadn't self-destructed as of yet, having decided to stay around incase Shane needed him, and that it would be better to at least give them a chance of winning. He insisted that it wasn't for the vamps, and Claire believed him on that; but he was willing to help them – however reluctantly – because of _her_, and she was thankful again that she loved Shane, because otherwise, this could have been a _lot_ harder to arrange.

But Myrnin had managed to organise a way to ensure all the water in the pipes was suctioned back to the water treatment plant just in downtown Morganville, on the opposite end to the well tended graveyard, and this meant that there was less chance of the Draug attacking. It wasn't impossible, naturally, but Myrnin hoped that they would be in and out quicker than it would take the Draug to move from their base up to the graves.

There was just one part of the plan that Claire _definitely _wasn't happy with; the rest was touch and go, but this was a definite no-no.

"No," she stated as he held the crystals out to her. "I saw what happened to Monica. I'm not taking them, Myrnin! It's too risky."

"You were fine, and anyway, you need to be able to dig faster to get the coffin out," he reminded her. "Otherwise, we'll just be sitting ducks, whilst you move a pitiful amount of soil in about three hours. And I'm sure that that's not in your plan…unless you'd rather I told_ Oliver_ what we're doing, and for your friends to come along as well. How would dear Michael find that, you and me digging up his dead Grandfather?" there was something in Myrnin's tone that angered Claire, but it also made her want to prove him wrong, to make sure that that didn't happen.

So she held her hand out for the crystals wordlessly, her face barely showing the anger she felt on the inside; everyone seemed to be angry, that day.

Within seconds, the small quantity of crystals were taking effect, and Myrnin handed Claire the shovel she was to use; he had two, because he apparently had the ability to use two, though Claire wasn't really seeing it. The only thing she hoped was that she didn't have to touch the _coffin_; it was one thing digging it up, another thing seeing a dead body – which wouldn't be any different to when it was buried, according to Myrnin – but touching the vessel in which it was meant to be eternally stored…_that_ would creep her out beyond anything else.

She followed Myrnin through the temporary floating portal, and spotted the gravestone just ahead, one that shined in the darkening sky, even with the sunlight still overhead – barely, but it was still there. Neither of them read the gravestone though – Myrnin because he didn't care; Claire because she didn't want to think of the moral side to her actions – and merely set to work, throwing piles of dirt in all directions, no plan for neatness in the desperation to get six feet down. After a few minutes, Claire noticed how Myrnin _could_ use two shovels accurately, and rather well, and it made her own pitiful attempts seem pointless, to the point that he actually ordered her to just be on guard for five minutes, whilst he removed all the tougher ground from the surface.

Soon, they were digging far down into the ground, and they had to be nearing the coffin when Claire's shovel collided with something with a soft _thunk_; it was either the coffin, or someone had been burying treasure along with the body.

"Excellent!" Myrnin exclaimed, yet didn't stop digging – in fact, his efforts doubled in his desperation to reach the coffin, whilst Claire moved upwards. She wasn't going to carry on with this now, not when it required brute strength to remove the coffin, something that not even the crystals could give her. They were for reflexes and the ability to endure physical activity, she decided, nothing further.

There was the soft glimmering of the portal, though she was sure that it had been ordered away, and her mobile phone began to crackle with static: Frank.

"_Tell the bloodsucker to hurry up! They're on their way up the hill – they must have been monitoring the graveyard!"_ the hiss of Frank's voice scared Claire, and had her repeating the message to Myrnin, who had probably already heard. She considered this; evidently, Magnus knew that they would try to save Amelie. He just didn't know what her most desired thing was…so he had probably set up guards all over town. To ensure that it wasn't suspicious and then become obvious that they had saved her, Claire presumed that it would be wise to stage break ins all over town, for things Amelie desired, though this wasn't high order thinking at the minute; right now, they had to get out. Right then. Or they were dead.

"In that case, we can't take the coffin; it would take far too much effort for me to dig it all up," he muttered, more to himself than to Claire, and his next action caused her to squeal slightly. "If you cannot be quiet, I shall ignore anything you have said about bait before and leave you for Magnus, Claire. Now, open the portal."

It wasn't anything _major_ he had done or anything.

He had just slammed his fist down on the coffin lid and smashed it in.

As Claire opened the door, she could just see the movement of a fluid substance up the hill, and she knew they could be on them at any moment. Probably, Oliver had sent men after them, though she wasn't sure and if Oliver saw them here, then there would be more than slightly awkward questions exchanged amidst the fighting.

Into his arms, Myrnin was scooping Sam's body, and Claire could see what he meant; there wasn't anything to indicate that Sam was doing anything other than sleeping, asides for the slight layer of almost _dust_, and the way that there were fang marks in his neck that hadn't been there the last time she saw him before that moment on the stage.

They didn't dawdle as Myrnin ran through the portal and Claire followed, slamming the door shut and watching as Frank made it disappear instantly. "_The system is locked down now, _bloodsucker_, so that bastard has no chance to use it. Currently, the only movement is between you and…_Head quarters_._" Some of the words Frank said were emphasised in a way that made Claire think that she didn't really want to be inside his head, but then her attention focused on Sam and the way that he was _here_.

It was strange and eerie as Myrnin lay Sam down next to Amelie, on three chairs that had been hastily pulled together to form a second sofa. They looked like the perfect couple, Claire thought, though both of them were dead – or near death, at least – and they were both vampires, both thousands of years apart in age. They were so different and yet so similar at the same time, that Claire felt that she could stay and look at them forever.

"Close down the portal to _all_ locations," Myrnin ordered Frank, who began to grumble, saying Oliver wouldn't be happy. "You care for Oliver less than you do for me, if that could be possible. If he comes here, we face civil war between _us_, Frank. Whilst that may be all well and good for _you_, you are a machine. It would be better if we could bring back Sam before Oliver arrives, or at least have a chance of it, as otherwise I may never get the chance."

_It's started_, Claire thought, _we've started the fightback, this time good and proper_.

She just hoped that it would be enough.

* * *

_**Don't **favourite/alert/read without reviewing, thank you very much._

_Vicky xx_


	6. Explanations

_So, I haven't read Black Dawn yet, thanks to Amazon being crap and not sending it until like yesterday. But, thanks to an amazing person giving me spoilers (which I then proceeded to hate because of what happens in it) I get the idea that this story is nothing like BD._

_I'm going to continue it, though, because I really like the storyline (if I do say so myself) even though it's turning most likely VERY AU._

_Chapter 6:_

* * *

All things considered, Oliver didn't think that they were doing too badly. True, they didn't have Amelie, and he doubted that the insane vampire even had any inkling what to do, so there was almost no chance of her coming back…and the portal system was turning temperamental…and they couldn't go outside without protection incase the Draug attacked, and there was the same issue with regards to water…but, when you took all that into perspective, they were doing well. Nobody who had remained behind to fight was yet dead – though the fight was still young – and the only casualty was Amelie. So, all in all, they weren't dead in the water yet.

Over on the other side of Morganville, the sun was just setting, though it didn't mean that anything would change. The Draug could attack at any point throughout the day or night, as they weren't affected by the position of the sun, and so anywhere which had copious amounts of water was dangerous. Because Myrnin wasn't the brightest of thinkers, he had basically impacted on their entire setting-up of their 'base' and all that had done was put Oliver into a worse mood than he already had been in, after relinquishing his hold on Amelie. If she was going to die, he would rather she had been in _his_ arms, rather than undergoing whatever brutal tests Myrnin was putting her through, because he wasn't entirely sure if she was aware of his feelings for her. Even as he stared out of the window, supposedly thinking up battle plans, he couldn't help but think about how he hadn't ever ensured that she knew of his feelings _properly_; they had shared the one, small kiss in her office, when she had been under stress about Magnus, but nothing further, given that he had almost immediately been captured by the Draug. Whilst he didn't quite know himself how to define their love – it was vastly different to the love she had felt for Sam, he was quite sure of that – it was something that was strong, and would never go away, but he would never serve her again.

No, now, he was fighting to get her back to _tell_ her that, for them then to rule Morganville together, because then he would never have to work for her again. But, for now, all he cared about was living to see another day dawn, and in that, hopefully eradicate the Draug.

"Oliver, what are we doing _now_?" the voice of Shane Collins loomed behind him, and Oliver snapped out of his reverie completely; there was no chance of him seeming like anything other than a strong war leader to the human who had always caused him the most problems. Something told Oliver that when all this was over, if Shane Collins continued to exist, he would have to arrange an "accident" to get rid of him; it was something he had experienced throughout his years as a war leader – those who are good in battle are problematic in the period of peace. And that couldn't be disputed, given Shane's track history in Morganville.

"_You_ are irritating me." Oliver was blunt with his response, not even bothering to tear his eyes away from the window to reply. "I, on the other hand, am trying to decide which plan we put into action in order to save all of our lives. Yes, that even includes you, though I would much rather it didn't."

"Great," Shane replied, sarcastic to the core. "So, we're just going to go out and attack some Draug, whilst Claire and the crazy one try to bring back the vamp queen. That sounds _really_ logical."

At the mention of Amelie, Oliver couldn't help himself whirling around, his eyes flashing with anger; there was nothing human about his appearance, nothing whatsoever, and he knew that with the others, there would be a reaction to how he looked. With Shane, there was nothing but a noting down of what it had taken to get the reaction from the vampire, something which Oliver would admit unnerved him. The only humans Oliver had trouble with were Claire and Shane, the former for her abilities and the way that she could save the day in ways _he_ couldn't, and the latter for the way that he always paid attention to the things that could, ultimately, lead to the downfall of all vampires.

"Either close that mouth of yours and scurry along back to your _friends_, or I will do it for you – and it will not be as pleasant, let me assure you." The threat lingered in the air long after Oliver finished speaking, and it was with slight hesitation that Shane held his hands up and backed off – with a glint in his eyes, however, that left Oliver certain that he was just messing with him.

With a sigh, Oliver returned to looking out of the window, trying to hide the feelings he felt, even from himself. Within his heart, he knew that if Amelie wasn't coming back, there would be no purpose in fighting; if she didn't survive, they wouldn't defeat the Draug, it was as simple as that.

He had put all his trust into Myrnin and Claire. All he could hope was that they realised the power they had…and that they used it well.

If they didn't, everyone was doomed.

_~x~_

Across town, Claire was barricading up the shack door, having decided that it would be good to have an extra line of defence, just incase their enemies came knocking. Simultaneously, she was calling orders out to Myrnin about which nails he could remove _when_, so that she didn't fall down through the stairs and into whatever rubbish he stored in a part of the lab she had always refused to go anywhere near.

"Ok, I'm on the fifth from the bottom now, so—" she began to continue to chart her path down, yet the surprise of hearing a slight, throaty chuckle surprised her.

"I know where you are standing, Claire; it isn't hard for me to know things like that." There was something in his voice that had Claire wondering if this was his idea of fun, and that her directions had only the purpose of amusing _him_ in this hard time.

"So you've had been charting my process down the stairs for absolutely _no_ reason whatsoever?" she confirmed, narrowing her eyes even though he couldn't see her.

As she rushed down the last of the stairs, knowing that the second from bottom was far too rotten to stand on for too long anyway, he replied, "yes. I had to have _some_ entertainment, did I not? And the descriptions you gave of each step were quite remarkable – _this one has a large chip out of the uppermost east corner, and there's a nail in the centre, approximately fifteen centimetres from the right hand side_." As he finished repeating her description of the thirteenth step, he stepped out from underneath the stairs with his spanner in hand. The smile on his face seemed relatively natural, as though it was only partially faked, and she had to remind herself that they were in a _warzone_ still, and that if Oliver turned up at any second to find Sam in the room, their fighting leader would be finished.

"So if anyone comes down there, what will happen?" she found herself asking as they walked back across to the bodies in the main laboratory area.

"Well, if there's more than one, the first one will fall to just below the stairs for a few moments, before its weight causes the floor to buckle. Beneath is a series of weapons to prevent them from escaping, and the entire underground region is filled with fire for approximately fifteen hours. It gets rather dangerous, and really too warm for human survival in here, when that happens." The non-committal shrug he gave planted the idea in Claire's head that he had done this before, and that the descriptions he gave had probably been from recordings of people's deaths.

She knew better than to ask, though. For now, their main priority was figuring out how to bring Sam back to life, something that didn't seem particularly possible. After all, if it was so easy to bring back vampires, why hadn't all the slain been brought back? It would have made more sense, especially if the power to make vampires had been forgotten over time, and so if they had the chance to, why hadn't they?

Deciding she needed an answer, Claire asked this question to Myrnin, someone who suddenly looked very thoughtful.

"An interesting point, Claire, something that I considered myself for many years, after one of our fellow companions died in the early stages of the English Civil War in the 1600s – not long before we met Oliver, unfortunately; if we could have brought him back, the course of history would have entirely changed – for us, at least. I have concluded, however, that the reason is because of the method of death. When humans stop breathing and yet they come back to life, what is the usual cause of this condition?"

"Heart attacks," Claire replied instantly, knowing this; very, very few other cases, particularly wounds inflicted by man made objects, would give a strong chance of survival after the heart stopped pumping blood around the body. "Even then, it's unlikely, dependent on how long the body is without oxygen, but you're more likely to come back from a heart attack than lung cancer, for example."

Myrnin nodded encouragingly, throwing Claire an energy bar that just happened to be lying on the side near to him. It seemed almost like he was rewarding her for getting something right – like in primary school, she thought – but she decided not to press it.

"That is exactly where my hypothesis heads," he continued, once again sounding far too happy. "If a vampire is staked, or is burned alive, for example, these are causes of death that are far too complex than for electrical shocks to deal with, like stab wounds to the heart would in humans. But with vampires…I have never had chance to test this hypothesis out, but I feel that if a vampire is drained, they…their body hasn't really died, it has merely lost the ability to live. _Just_ replenishing blood couldn't be enough; it has to be from the person who killed him or her, otherwise no drained vampire would ever remain drained."

"But…but…how did Amelie think she had killed Bishop, back when she first thought she'd killed him?" Claire blurted out, the question just coming to mind. "I mean, she evidently didn't mutilate his body into tiny fragments or anything, since he still looked pretty well put together when he first came around."

Myrnin's expression darkened, and Claire got the idea that she didn't want to have asked that question. "That is…she drained him. The person who we lost back in the seventeenth century was Amelie's cousin – her Father's brother's son – and he…he just disappeared. We never found his body, and so we presumed it had been destroyed by Ysandre –even back then, she was always Bishop's through and through. It never occurred to us, especially to Amelie, that François would turn out to have been Bishop's from the off and that he almost killed himself, bringing Bishop back to life."

The only information Claire gleaned from this was that, apparently, François was Amelie's cousin, and that Bishop had always known what Myrnin theorised, if this theory was indeed correct.

"So…_Amelie _and _François_ are related?" she confirmed, and Myrnin nodded. "She never reacted that day, when she came over and saved us all from Bishop and his cronies."

Myrnin frowned at the word 'cronies' but he didn't wait for a definition. "She wouldn't. Whilst I presume she would have been shocked, Amelie has never showed emotion at things which have shocked her; it has always allowed her to excel at poker, for example. But back to the point; if François had indeed given his blood to Bishop, then the fallen vampire could have risen once more, because the blood of a blood relative is close enough for the fallen to revive. This is our one hope, Claire, the one chance we have before we have to inform Oliver of what we know; if this works, then we have a chance to get Amelie back.

"If it doesn't…we'll have to recruit Oliver."

_~x~_

Within another hour or so, Claire had helped Myrnin set up machines to remove blood from Amelie's body every thirteen minutes; it was in ridiculously small amounts, but Myrnin had specified that this must happen, because otherwise, her body would begin to react in ways he wouldn't be able to control. Apparently, the Draug bite had left _some_ residue in her blood – something that was apparently so insignificant, he didn't feel the need to inform Claire, to her frustration – and he wasn't entirely sure that it would turn her into a Draug, or completely destroy her body, if changes were made too quickly. Though if things progressed _too_ slowly, Claire knew that they would be in for another visit from Oliver sooner rather than later – and she had a feeling that he wouldn't be quite as happy, if he had to walk across town because the portals were down, to then walk down steps and then die before finding out about Amelie.

Maybe they ought to have put a sign on the door, just incase Oliver or someone else came by, Claire thought. It was too late for that now, though.

"So what do we do for the next however long, until we have enough blood?" Claire asked Myrnin, wanting to request sleep again – a couple of hours long nap was not enough to add up to all the work she had done both before and afterwards, and the crystals still made her feel sleepy, now their helpful effects had worn off – but not wanting to, incase he wanted her here for something or other.

Yet as he looked at her, she saw his face soften, as though he could see the circles around her eyes growing by the second. "It should take almost two days, according to my calculations," he informed her softly, setting down two of his many test tubes to walk across to her. "You look exhausted – and I cannot be working with someone as incompetent as you are when you are in a state like this."

She made to protest but decided against it, realising that it actually aided her, to be insulted by Myrnin. It probably normally did, but she preferred to argue than to be seen as weak. Tonight, approaching midnight, she didn't really care; her body clock had gone crazy, and she no longer knew whether she was up early or if she had been awake for so long that she had just managed to skip an entire night's sleep.

"What'll you do, if I do sleep?" she asked him, her eyes meeting his once again.

"I shall work on ensuring the electric current passes through Sam's skin, given that the vampire state of him will…certainly _change_ things," he replied carefully. "More than that, I shall research what possible effects his heart beating will _have_, given that he is a vampire, and try to concoct something to avoid this having a negative influence. That is all. I believe you shall be well enough rested by then, in order to assist me with the rest of the investigation."

Without another word he turned away, and she knew that he was letting her go to bed. "Um…you may want to ring Oliver, just to make sure that he doesn't come over," she suggested meekly, even as she walked away from him; there was no issue with his hearing, after all. "And good luck, Myrnin."

As she turned back to face him, he looked back at her, and she could see the weariness; it was as though all of his centuries of life had returned to haunt his face at that moment, and he looked every year of the uncounted age he was. Yet he soon looked away back at the experiment at hand, and Claire had lost enough sleep not to even be interested in science.

It was one of _those_ sorts of days (or, indeed, set of days) and she couldn't wait to get to sleep for an extended period of time, without worrying about waking up to go and see that Amelie hadn't been abducted, or had decided to come back as a screaming banshee.

Unfortunately for Claire, sleep wasn't peaceful.

It was filled with the idea that Amelie was a banshee.

* * *

_This wasn't the best chapter; I didn't want to have everything happening straight after the excavation of Sam, and even though I ship SamAmelie, the leanings of the series towards AmelieOliver sort of prompted the upper section._

_I'd appreciate it if you didn't favourite/alert without reviewing._

_Thanks_

_Vicky xx_


	7. Contemplation

**AN:** I don't own anything; I'm pretty sure I don't because Black Dawn'd've been different if I did.

_Chapter 7:_

Also, I'll say it here, on this story, as well: you ought to go read **Insanity's Finest, **by** Flying Penguinz** after you've R&R'd this chapter, because it is flawless.

* * *

Myrnin was scared.

Only when he was alone, when Claire had left him in the room where the silence was only broken by the whirring of machines and the sound of Claire's breathing in the other room, did he have the chance to acknowledge the feeling he had, deep inside, that Amelie wasn't going to come back. Whilst Claire's idea evidently had _some_ good logic behind it – he wouldn't have risked Oliver's wrath if it didn't – he was certain that the fact Sam was dead would be an issue; surely vampires would have risen from the death before, if it was as simple as to give them the blood of those who had killed them, or their relatives? Though he was the most prolific vampire scientist, there had been many of them with as sharp brains as he had, and so would _they_ not have considered the possibility of allowing their dead to rise once more?

Yet, on balance, he was the only scientist who remained alive _after_ Bishop had returned and proven that, evidently, vampires could come back from the dead, and so therefore he was the only one who had reason to consider bringing back deceased vampires. And, further to this side of thinking, it wasn't even him who had considered it; it was Claire, the human girl who had a brain_ just_ sharp enough to possibly rival his own, if she chose immortal life later down her mortal line. Even thinking this way, however, Myrnin couldn't make absolutely certain that Sam could come back to save Amelie, and that maybe he'd have to try and create something in order to return her to consciousness.

Once he had set up the drip to resume drawing Amelie's blood from her body, Myrnin began to pace backwards and forwards in the cluttered laboratory, knocking over piles of books and sending stacks of paper to the floor in his erratic path around the laboratory, the desperation to come to some sort of conclusion ruling anything else. He didn't think about anything other than Amelie and Sam, contemplating ways to bring her back by thinking that he is alive, and actually possibilities to bring _back_ the dead vampire, if this method didn't work.

In the end, though, he gave up; three hours of pacing brought with it no further ideas other than the one he had put in place, and he realised, with dejection, that he was not God. Whilst he didn't believe in creationism and other religious ideas, he knew enough that there was no way he could bring back someone from the dead. Perhaps, if this method wasn't able to work, Bishop had never been dead – perhaps it had just been a coincidence that François had abandoned them, because he knew there was a chance that Amelie would have failed to kill their common relative. There were possibilities for anything, and anyway, _human_ science – something which had advanced further than Myrnin deigned to admit – was yet to bring back someone who had died, so what made him any more likely to?

The ringing of his phone startled Myrnin more than he cared to admit; in the deathly silence of the lab, the relatively low volume blared out, and it certainly wasn't something that Myrnin's ears took kindly to.

Neither did his eyes take kindly to the name on the caller i.d: Oliver.

Too late, Myrnin realised that he hadn't phoned Oliver earlier, when Claire had told him to, and was now probably going to hear some codswallop about why the portals were shut because they were key to the situation, how _Oliver_ was in charge (of the nursery, Myrnin thought to himself) and how anything he did _had_ to go through the man in charge. None of that was true, yet Myrnin had no desire for Oliver to try and come here, because if he came through the portal, he wouldn't be able to, and if he then tried to come via the street, he would be blown to pieces _and_ destroy all of Myrnin's work. After all his notes had been destroyed for the first time, Myrnin certainly didn't want that to happen again.

"If you are calling for a progress report, do not continue to be on the line within the next ten seconds," Myrnin said as soon as he pressed the green button – strange colour, because on the traffic lights, _red_ was the colour to go— oh, perhaps that was what Claire had meant about him almost killing people.

"I am in—" Oliver began to retort that he was in charge, his tone far too pompous and superior for Myrnin to deal with.

"You are _not_ in charge, Oliver; you are a jumped up revolutionist who succeeded in overthrowing the King in the sixteen hundreds, yet we are not there now, are we?" Myrnin pinched the bridge of his nose as he spoke, racing across the room to remove the drip from Amelie's arm. "I do not want to hear how you _need_ to know what is going on with Amelie and—" he cut himself off sharply, realising how he was about to mention Sam's presence in the laboratory, "I merely mean that you have no purpose knowing what is going on here. You are meant to be fighting, and have you done any of _that_ yet?"

He could hear Oliver growling down the end of the phone, and felt a brief flicker of satisfaction at what he had succeeded in doing: riling Oliver, _and_ not being in the position where he would be forced to apologise later. "I _want_ to know what you and your _assistant_ are doing, fool. Must I come down through the appallingly built shack to see whatever it is that you are hiding from me?"

"If you do that, you destroy yourself, and then everything in here – and that includes Amelie," Myrnin replied sharply, sitting down in one of the threadbare chairs near to his bookcase as he spoke. "Whilst that would be a most admiral example for our people on how to commit an..._intriguing_ suicide in the face of the Draug, I don't believe that that would be particularly beneficial to our decision to fight, do you?"

"_Fool_!" Oliver barked down the phone, and Myrnin could hear the smashing of something on the other end of the line. Personally, Myrnin hoped that it was the Collins brat's head colliding with the marble floor, though he knew that he couldn't have everything. "You are jeopardising everything we are working for here, simply by your obstinate nature and your refusal to accept me as the operator of this fight. Good luck saving your mistress, Myrnin, for if you do not do it soon, there will be no point; we were nearly destroyed, fighting them in the graveyard tonight, and without Amelie, we have no chance of having the power to remove Magnus from this world." Oliver hung up, a snap on his end of the line indicating to Myrnin that there was no longer another person on the phone line with him.

Slowly lowering the phone, Myrnin realised that there was something to what Oliver had said that made sense; there was no point fighting without Amelie, something he knew already, but rather that they had already almost died…and that there would _be_ no point continuing their resistance if they did not have Amelie within the next few days. But perhaps…perhaps he _should_ inform Oliver of what he and Claire were trying to do – with Sam.

Would it be so wrong for him to inform Oliver that Sam was Amelie's one and only, and that no matter _what_ he did, it would never be enough? Probably, Myrnin thought, but he cared nought for morality and whether his actions were hurting someone's feelings…particularly Oliver. Whilst it wasn't particularly in his nature to hurt _anyone_, the crazy alchemist couldn't help but think that if hurting Oliver was for the good of the fight, then he would do it. After all, if Oliver didn't fight, then their entire army would be slaughtered in minutes, given that they lacked the structure and drive that the fighting obsessed lunatic brought with him.

It was certainly tempting, and Myrnin almost rang Oliver straight back to tell him to come here, and then explain, but he decided that it would certainly be better to wait until Claire was able to act as a buffer, preventing Oliver harming either Amelie or his dear self.

So Myrnin busied himself reading his extensive notes about electricity and investigating how the hospital used the paddles to restart hearts, wondering to himself the golden question: what happens if you restart a vampire's heart?

_~x~_

As Claire awoke, she had the sudden sensation that there was something amiss, that she was probably in the grasp of the Draug and that she possibly could even be dead. That was always likely, even in 'normal' Morganville, but as she calmed down enough to check that, yes, she _was_ still breathing, her heart was beating and that she was in Myrnin's tiny bedroom, she realised that it was just the aftermath of the bad dream. Amelie being a banshee evolved into her turning _into_ a clone of Magnus, which then somehow turned into the lab being overrun with rats – rats that weren't _really_ rats, but were the Draug trying to kill them.

"You're safe, you're fine, you're with Myrnin so everything is ok," Claire said to herself slowly, trying to regulate her breathing and heartbeat to something less than what they'd be after a one hundred metre sprint. "Nobody has tried to kill you today," _yet_, "and so there's no point trying to kill yourself, is there?"

Swinging her legs off the top of the bed, Claire moved to stand up and cross the room, heading for the blacked out window in the corner of the ceiling; she figured that if she could reach the glass, she'd be able to gauge whether or not it was about time for her to be waking up. Even though she knew that there were more pressing issues, and that she could just check a piece of technology for the time, there was something that she almost wanted to prove to herself by doing this small, menial thing.

It made her feel as though she was able to _do_ things.

Slightly scared, Claire reached across and moved the seemingly unused chest of drawers a metre forwards and climbed onto the side of the creaking bed in order to clamber on top of the wooden box; it was covered in dust, and far too high from the ground for her heart _not_ to be almost in her mouth, but she soon managed to wriggle around to get to her feet. For one petrifying second, she worried that the wood was rotten and that she would fall straight through, but after an initial wobble, it seemed to settle with her weight evenly distributed, and she reached up towards the window.

Part of her wanted to push it open, but she knew that creating another entry into their pretty haphazardly closed centre of research wasn't the best idea, so she simply strained her eyes to see through the glass, wiping away a layer of dust that seemed to cling to everything in this disused room. Something told her that she was the only one who had used it in the past few months, and that it probably had been a good fifty or so years before Myrnin had even graced the room with his presence.

After another few minutes of scraping and scratching at the light proofing, Claire soon realised that she could see through enough to discover that there was _definitely_ light outside, and that it was probably closer to midday than any other time of the day.

So, _definitely_ time for her to be up.

It just happened that Claire came across a slight problem as to her trying to get down from the drawers. Part of her wanted to just sit down on them and slide off, but the worries about the rotten nature of the wood came back when the sides seemed to shake uncontrollably – she _definitely_ wouldn't be trying that out. But neither did she fancy her chances of jumping off the drawers and not breaking one of the more important bones in her body, because she'd never been good at athletics, and now wasn't the time to practise her long jump.

"Myrnin!" she found herself calling for help after another few minutes of indecisiveness about what she should do. "I need your help! I'm…_stuck_."

Within three seconds, Myrnin had opened the door and flashed across the room towards Claire, his fangs drawn and a dangerous expression on his face: with the arsenal of weapons attached to his belt, it was obvious that he had entered prepared to see an enemy having breached his security.

When he saw that Claire was stuck on some drawers, he stopped, stunned, and was silent for a good five seconds. And then, he began to laugh.

"It isn't _funny_, Myrnin!" she snapped, but he couldn't help himself, letting loose a howl or two before managing to sober up.

"We are supposed to be curing the Founder of this town, and you were supposed to be sleeping," he reminded her, more than just a hint of humour to his tone. "And I enter the bedroom to find you spending time on top of some _drawers_, ones I was certain housed a certain spider colony at one stage…hm…have you gotten over your aversion to Bob?"

Claire screamed at the mention of spiders. "Get me down, _now_!" she yelled, standing on tip toes as if that would help her get away from spiders that hadn't bothered her yet. "Myrnin, I mean it. I'll tell Oliver what we're doing if—"

"Jump," he interrupted her calmly, setting aside a rather lethal weapon to free his hands, "I'll catch you. I promise."

Claire didn't even hesitate as she flung herself from the drawers and into Myrnin's arms, sliding down near instantly to have her feet safely on the floor. "Thanks," she muttered, moving away from him and towards the door instantly – the threat of spiders loomed. "Shut the door on your way out, _please_. If I see a spider today, I will actually kill someone."

"If you happen to have violent tendencies today, I would appreciate it if you directed them towards our enemies, rather than myself or our guests, because that would be rather counter productive, do you not think?" Myrnin replied calmly, neatly shutting the door behind him as he followed Claire through into the laboratory. "There is some food and drink in the area to your left, for it is almost midday and I presumed that you would be rather hungry. Fear not – I store all human food on the opposite side of the fridge to my blood, and ensure that there is no contamination."

Claire frowned at this, but made no comment as she began to eat the food he had set out for her, turning back to watch him fiddle with some wires near to Amelie's bedside as she ate. "What are you doing?" she managed to say around half a cheese sandwich stuffed into her mouth, her eyes narrowing as she tried to even see where the wire was connected to. In this lab, where lighting was a mixture between old-fashioned oil lamps and the new electrical lighting that had been installed, yet broken in so many places.

"Nothing that matters, Claire," Myrnin replied smoothly, "it is merely to monitor Sam's heart rate, whenever we bring him back. Because his life will be linked with Amelie's, we can tell whether he is returning to us by Amelie's thought waves. _Not_ that this is an issue for now, for we are nowhere near this stage."

Claire accepted this without a word in opposition, because there wasn't really much else they _could_ do; the only thing they had to do now was wait for Amelie to have replenished her blood enough – through handy donations from Myrnin's blood supply – to have enough blood for Sam's system, a way to get this into Sam and then get that flowing to his brain to restart it enough to make his motor functions work once again. And something told Claire that that could take even longer than the couple of days that Myrnin had predicted, because, as far as she could see, they had collected one and a half pints in thirteen hours.

"So we wait?" she asked, but Myrnin shook his head.

"No, well, yes we _wait_, but we do not sit idle as we do so, little one," he smiled ever so slightly as he patted the stack of books beside him. "Things involving _your_ field of expertise – this new fangled physics malarkey – must be understood and adapted in order to exchange enough energy and charge for Sam's body to become animate once more."

"So…like…well…" Claire began, but realised that she didn't actually know what she was talking about. "Well, evidently you know _something_, because I don't have a clue. So, as usual, you're in charge of the directing."

Myrnin opened his mouth to respond, but then whirled around to face the far corner with a puzzled expression on his face.

"You know, you _really_ ought to improve security," a voice said, a voice belonging to a person who Claire was _certain_ shouldn't be here, not now. "After all, I got in here—holy _fuck_, what…is that Sam?"

It was at this moment that Claire realised that there was no chance of keeping a secret in Morganville, so why they had tried was beyond her.

* * *

**AN2:** I'd appreciate it if you didn't favourite/alert without reviewing.

& if you all review when you read, I'll update faster.

Vicky xx


	8. Electricity

_Chapter 8:_

_I don't own anything_

_I'd appreciate it if you didn't favourite/alert without reviewing!_

* * *

Claire could only stare at the person standing in the corner of the room.

"How…_how_ did you get in here?" she cried out, throwing her hands into the air in frustration; it wasn't frustration at seeing him, most certainly not, but more at the fact that security was that easy to breach.

Myrnin, however, didn't speak to either of them, merely spun around in a circle and began shaking his fists at the ceiling. "Frank! Come here – _now_!" he shouted at thin air, and if it wasn't for the fact that she knew Frank could hear him, Claire would have thought he was going crazy.

Slowly, as though he didn't want to be there, a two dimensional image of Frank Collins appeared. "What do you want, Mr—oh. I see." Most likely to launch into one of his pet names for Myrnin, Frank stopped when he saw the visitor to the lab. "He's my son; I couldn't exactly say no to him, could I? Not when Oliver was being such a _bastard_ to him – to them all – and he could come here, to safety," Frank explained it without even needing Myrnin to prompt him, though the look on the older vampire's face was one of absolute fury.

"It was supposed to be a _secret!"_ Myrnin hissed the last word, slamming his hands into one of the specially reinforced benches that lined the lab, barely denting it. "That is part of what _do not let anyone into the lab_ means! It doesn't say 'do not let anyone in but whomever makes Frank feel good', or even 'family is an exception to this rule'; it says _nobody enters the laboratory!_ Do I need to reprogram you, or something?"

"Don't be _rude_, Myrnin," Claire chastised, before she turned back to face Shane. "But…he's right, Shane. You shouldn't be here." her voice lowered as she spoke, her eyes fixed on his, and she could read the jealousy there; he was jealous that she was staying even longer to work with Myrnin.

Shane narrowed his eyes and took a step closer to the motley group of the three vampires, Claire and the translucent image of his father, his hands twisted into fists. "That's seriously Sam, isn't it?" he said again, barely changing his words of before, as though he hadn't heard anything that had been said in the past minute or two. "You're _sick_, digging up a dead man, even a dead vampire – and for what? Why do you need his body, when Amelie's dying?" his questions had Claire wondering how to explain what they were doing, and why, in layman's terms, because it was obvious that he wouldn't understand sectioning up the brain as to which section does what.

"Um…basically, we need Sam to bring Amelie back," Claire summarised everything into as few words as possible, wondering if it was too simple with the look that Shane gave her. "Ok, well, so there's something in Amelie's brain that the Draug attacked, and it means that she needs the thing she wants the most to bring her back. And that's Sam, alive. Some other things mean that we need to bring Sam back with Amelie's blood, and then everything should be sorted. Does that make sense?"

All Shane did was stare at her. "No. It doesn't. And it sure as hell doesn't make sense why you're not telling Oliver what's going on, because that's all _I've_ heard for the past few hours is how he's not got a clue what you're doing."

"Are you _blind_, Shane?" Claire snapped at him, regretting it instantly, so when she spoke again, her tone was softer. "I just mean…you know how Oliver looked at Amelie. Do you really think that letting him know that Amelie desires Sam more than anything else is the right idea? It's obvious that Sam's needed for whatever we do with Amelie, and…Oliver probably won't work with us anymore, if he finds out."

Myrnin felt it necessary to chime in at this point, something that had Claire marvelling that he had taken this long to join in; as she looked at him, she realised that he had been dealing with some of the wires attached to Amelie, the purpose of them still something she didn't know. "I am honestly abhorred that you would dare to enter this laboratory without permission, and when the portals are closed to everyone besides those with an extremely pressing need to use them." He looked as though he would continue, but the looks of the three living (since Frank could give him a look) people in the room made him shut up.

"Claire, you can leave with me," Shane said to Claire softly, breaking the silence and taking a step towards her. "It's not like you need to stay and deal with the dead vampires – dead more than normal vampires, I mean – and anyway, we really miss you." His hand wrapped around hers, and she felt the desire to do what he wanted, to return to the rest of the Glass House gang and feel as if she was doing something for the cause. In the lab, she felt almost as though she was just doing normal work, yet with the price that if it didn't work, they were all dead.

One look back at Myrnin, however, with the pleading look on his face that screamed he required help, and that was all she needed. "No," came her equally soft reply, looking Shane right in the eyes as she spoke. "I can't. I'm sorry, Shane; I love you, but fighting is your thing. _I_ came up with this, not Myrnin—"

"—that's true," Myrnin interjected, yet shut up once again as Claire shot him an ice cold glare to rival Amelie's.

"And so I need to carry on with it," Claire continued as though she hadn't been interrupted. "It won't take _that_ much longer, I don't think, and it's getting to the point that Sam could be coming back – _soon_. We need to do this, Shane, and then we'll have Amelie back to fight with us to victory. It means that we can win – I'm sure of it," she urged him to understand what she knew was true, to understand the philosophy behind the actions.

It didn't work. As soon as she finished talking, Shane's face seemed to darken, as though a dark cloud had passed over it. "I don't agree…but evidently you're not going to leave," he sighed, letting go of her hand at the same time. "And I won't tell Oliver; I see your point about him not behaving well if he found out, and I don't want to be in the firing line." The way he smiled made Claire shiver, as though he was being deliberately evil – or looking forward to the consequences, she couldn't tell. "After all, when it fails, it'll mean you're telling him. Bye."

The way that he left almost as though he didn't know Claire, left her heartbroken; this wasn't the time for romance, she knew, but it still stung that he didn't kiss her goodbye, or even that he had basically told her that he knew she was going to fail. She had to prove him wrong, to prove that she wasn't doing something stupid and staying with Myrnin for any reason other than for the town; he didn't want to stay, she knew that, but she felt that he could have at least supported her.

As soon as the portal closed, Myrnin was into a flurry of action, moving across the room towards the projection of Frank. "Let me be clear," he said, his voice filled with fury that Claire had never heard before. It was scary, to hear Myrnin behaving like this; he wasn't like the loveable, yet crazy alchemist she had mainly known. "If you _ever_ disobey my orders again, I will disengage your ability to speak. It has been a courtesy, something I regret now, allowing you to continue thinking for yourself; if I desire to, I can go down to the machine and flick a switch, so you do _only_ as I command. Are we quite clear?"

Frank, at least, had the common sense to agree with this, his voice creating static as it came out through the speakers closest to Claire, before he faded into the air in the laboratory. "Was there any need for that?" Claire asked Myrnin as soon as Frank had gone, taking a step closer to him. "He wouldn't do it again, and you didn't have to be _quite_ so mean to Shane! He didn't do anything wrong."

"He came here, having persuaded the machine to break my express orders that we were to be isolated, and then proceeded to throw insults at us about what we were doing," Myrnin argued back, yet he – wisely – seemed to realise that Claire wasn't interested in arguing with him; she was telling him, and amazingly, he let her. "Alright then, I quite agree; there was no need for me to leave out your flailing on top of my chest of drawers," he continued, managing to make his tone lighter and more like his usual self. Yet Claire could still detect the hint of tension that lay beneath the humour, and she fought to make herself laugh at his attempts to return to normal.

"If you did do that, then you would be finding a stake through your heart," she promised him, only half-joking, but it had the desired effect to make him smile.

And with that, they gave up on the attempts to return to normal; there was no need to, was there, when they now were faced with the seemingly impossible task of restarting a vampire's heart, and extrapolating the consequences of what could occur if it were to be achieved.

**_~x~_**

"There is literally nothing, Myrnin, honestly," Claire tried to argue that there was nothing recorded of a vampire ever being brought back from the dead in the stack of literature he had given her, but Myrnin wasn't having any of it.

"Perhaps you ought to reread them one more time," he suggested, not sounding as if he was particularly bothered, yet she knew that if she tried to leave them alone, he'd snap. "After all, it's only been three hours; you cannot have read eleven books from cover to cover – even you are not that good, Claire."

She narrowed her eyes at him and bit back the retort she would have given, if it wasn't for the fact that every time she had already tried that, she had been reminded of the spiders, along with how she had jumped when he pretended ghosts were lingering in the far corner earlier on. In all honesty, she hadn't believed him – she _hadn't_ – but in Morganville, you react first, think later, and that was what she had done when she had ducked under the table, armed with a scythe that was just lying around.

"Fine, I'll reread them…but what are _you_ doing?" she inquired, noticing for the first time that Myrnin had given up on books, and was moving onto twirling pieces of copper wire around his finger. "Trying to electrocute yourself without a current? Or are you merely fashioning yourself a new ring to give to yourself as a present for being'so awesome'?" she continued, packing as much sarcasm into the last two words as she possibly could manage.

"Intriguing conceptions, Claire, yet you are incorrect," he said in response, suddenly sounding far away, deep in thought. "I read an article about a device compiled of brass and copper, along with other components, that would, when placed onto a vampire's heart, restart it. The outcomes were unclear – apparently, it was attempted many times and required to be struck with a lightning bolt at _exactly _the right locus on the device – but I feel that with electricity, we can most certainly achieve this. And if it doesn't work…well…you are reading, so can surely come up with _something_."

"You mean to say," Claire said slowly, closing over the leather bound book with a snap, "that you have me reading these books – some of which are _awful_, by the way – just so that you can make your device, something you already found, and you won't let me _stop_ reading them?" she was sure that the horror in her voice was evident even to someone as emotionally distant as Myrnin, yet she was mistaken.

"Yes, yes, that is quite correct; you are a human who does not yet quite understand the delicate nature of alchemy – though you are trying, certainly." He seemed compelled to add the last clause, as though it would make Claire feel better about his insulting her. "An interest in alchemy, however, is not enough to partake in such a creation. If you desire to be of use other than with the books, you may check on Amelie, and ensure that the reading on the machine is higher than that of one hundred and forty three. If this is the case, then reattach the needle into her arm, to draw more blood out." he didn't look up from the curls of metal that lined the table, not even to see if she was going to carry out his actions, and that was just typical Myrnin, Claire thought.

With a sigh, she stood up and stretched out her aching muscles, knowing that it would be wise to ring Oliver soon; he seemed to want progress reports, though Myrnin hadn't commented on how Oliver had responded to the edited news from when she was asleep, and that was probably better coming from her – a fact she had gleaned from the lack of comments about how the news had been taken.

That could wait until after she had dealt with Amelie, however; as she moved across towards the elderly vampire, Claire was struck with a thought about how this could be what she wanted. Amelie had lived for over one thousand years; perhaps this last stand was her opportunity to die with dignity, in a manner that hopefully meant she would join her lost love in a peaceful afterlife. But Claire couldn't think like that, couldn't consider that Amelie had wanted death. They had to fight for victory, and that required Amelie – they needed her.

The reading on the machine to Amelie's left, the one's function that Claire _still_ didn't know, was almost one hundred and fifty, so it seemed adequately high for her to remove the drip of human blood in her right arm – even though Myrnin hadn't mentioned it, it seemed logical – and to replace the needle in her left that would remove the blood from her veins. Almost immediately, a thick, near purple liquid began to drain from her thin arm, almost viscous in texture, and Claire realised just how glad she was that she didn't normally have to see this. If this was the blood that came out of _her_ arm, she was sure that she would have fainted at the blood the very first time she cut herself.

It seemed that everything was working out, in Claire's eyes: Amelie's blood stocks had to be increasing, almost to the point that they could use them for Sam; Myrnin had an idea for how to bring Sam back without incurring some sort of hidden, paranormal prank that would probably be worse than the Draug; they had even managed to keep this a secret from Oliver – and that was saying something. Perhaps they had a chance at being finished in the next twenty four hours, ahead of Myrnin's original schedule, because things seemed to move faster (a lot faster) than she had presumed they would.

Possibly it was Claire's thinking that things were alright that led to the rainstorm that suddenly began over the laboratory, the water hitting the ground with such force that the ceiling began to shake; after all, when she had ever thought something was going good before, it generally turned out worse than it was going to be. At first, she thought it was just a shower, one that the Draug had decided to cast over all ground suspected of being valuable to the rebels – that was a tactical move that she would have made, if she was Magnus – but then it kept on coming.

And coming.

And coming.

It reached the point that, within three or four minutes, the lights on the ceiling were shaking also, their illumination of the lab dimming so that more and more of it was being cast in shadows every second – yet Myrnin didn't seem to notice.

"Myrnin, we need to do something!" Claire said as she ran across to Myrnin, tapping him on the shoulder, even as he placed a microscopic piece of some metal into the middle of a coil of wire the colour of Sam's hair. "The Draug _must_ know we're here, and they're going to get in!" the desperation in her voice was evident, even to Myrnin, and she realised just how much she wanted to be reassured things were going just fine, that they were safe enough in here.

"Hush, Claire," he replied softly, standing up and abandoning the device to look at her with soft, yet focused eyes. "We need to just stay calm and relaxed; they cannot get in, I am sure of it. No water is in the lab besides bottled water, free from contamination. The doorway and windows are sealed, and the only amenity we are reliant on the system is—" he cut off suddenly, his hands on her shoulders, and his entire body tensed.

"Myrnin?" she said his name with fear in her voice, scared as to why he had frozen; had he forgotten some way that the Draug could get in? "Myrnin, is everything alright?"

He shook his head slowly, closing his eyes as he did so, and sighed. "No. I just realised one of my most _idiotic_ mistakes of this mission. The electricity supply; it's from an outside source. The generator downstairs requires two hours to set up, and we may not have that, not if the Draug are targeting us so specifically. If they attack in such large volumes, they can disrupt…I don't know, almost anything in their path. Does that include telephone pylons and electricity wires? I would say, most certainly."

With that explanation, Claire felt she should have expected when the lights cut out suddenly, the buzzing in the lab ceasing and _true_ silence for the first time, save for the pelting rain.

And yet she still screamed.

* * *

_So, the next chapter has a lot more stuff going on; it's gonna be really big for the whole mission thing, and so you'd be a fool to miss it!_

_If I get to 60 reviews with this chapter, I'll update immediately_ and _write a oneshot for the 60th reviewer!_

_Once again, please don't favourite or alert or read without reviewing, thanks!_

_Vicky xx_


	9. Generation

Chapter 9:

This chapter is (in part) being updated today for my weekly update/post for Project PULL.

* * *

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Claire, don't be so overdramatic!" Myrnin said to Claire as she screamed again; the rain above almost seemed to direct itself to a spot on the 'roof' (since there was clay and a shack on top of this laboratory) above her, and it seemed as though it was tunnelling through. The force and pressure exerted, she calculated, meant that if the Draug were left to their own devices, they could probably manage to get down to directly above the lab. Whether they would get through the ceiling, Claire wasn't sure…but—

"Myrnin, isn't there part of your laboratory – namely your _bedroom_ – that isn't about three metres below ground?" she said urgently, thankful when her boss ignited a candle. Whilst they seriously needed to sort Sam and Amelie's machines out, by somehow fixing the power source, the threat of their possible imminent death loomed greater than a dead vampire, and a dying one.

The look that passed through Myrnin's eyes when he processed what Claire said was haunting; it was as though he was a dead man walking, someone who had seen the horrors that were to fall upon him, and yet he had no chance to escape them. It scared Claire more than anything else had – and that included the Draug's appearance in Morganville, the rescuing of a dead vampire from his grave, and even the lights going out. Things were terrifying for a normal person when Myrnin was scared.

"You're right," he said, sounding as though he was kicking himself inside. The sound that followed his words made Claire sure that he was kicking the reinforced table next to them. "That needs to be covered over with some kind of rotting wood…or something along those lines – whatever we can spare, we ought to cover the roof with." He began to mumble, picking up bits and pieces – as far as Claire could see – and putting them down again, saying that they weren't useful enough.

And then he disappeared.

"Bring me back the candle, Myrnin!" Claire whisper-shouted, though she knew that their enemy knew their location now, so it wasn't as though they were trying to hide; her whisper-shouting was pointless. "I can't _see_, god dammit, and it's not like _you_ need it…oh, thanks," she began to rant about his vampire vision, when he loomed before her, paler than normal in the darkness, and handed her the candle without a word.

He was gone again before she could ask him what he was planning on doing – as sticking rotting wood on a ceiling didn't sound like the best idea to keep out a water-based enemy – so Claire focused on moving around the lab and finding every candle in a not so hazardous location (of which there were precisely three) and then lighting the few oil lamps that didn't run off electricity.

Her actions created a glow in the lab, the light too dim for her eyes to see well, besides when she focused in with her personal candle, but bright enough for her to see where she was going, and for her attention to be drawn back to Amelie and Sam. As she gravitated closer to them, she noticed that the machines were off, naturally, but that because the blood had continued to drop from Amelie's arm, they no longer knew whether it was doing so at safe levels. If she removed it and it was still safe, they would be wasting time they didn't have…

…but if she didn't remove it and it was the thing that led to Amelie turning into a Draug, things would get very, _very_ bad.

Before Claire could make a decision, Myrnin was back, muttering again though this time, the focus was more on the damned Draug, and couldn't they leave him alone for _one_ day? She didn't dare mention to him that he had been left alone by them for a few centuries, because it didn't seem appropriate.

"Are we unplugging them?" she asked tentatively, wondering whether or not they would actually be moving location. The Council building would almost certainly have a generator already up and running, and they could set up away from all the other fighters – but then Oliver would find out. Claire knew there was absolutely no way that they could leave the lab and go to Oliver's base without him finding out they were moving – then he would _insist_ on seeing Amelie, and then by default, he would discover Sam's existence.

Myrnin snorted, yet it wasn't a snort that had even a little humour; it was a reflex, one that sounded weary more than anything else. "No, we are not," he replied shortly, already busy doing something with the wires around Amelie. "If you could tell me how that would be productive to our cause, then perhaps I shall consider it, but I do not see how it could be."

That stung Claire; she stood there for a moment in silence, wondering how Myrnin considered himself able to speak to her like that. Though her mouth opened in protest, no words came out, and she ended up shutting it until she thought of something useful to the cause to say. Anger wouldn't get her anywhere at the current moment in time, she thought, and it was always better to be the adult around Myrnin – otherwise, there were none.

"Well then, I would say that you need to get on with setting up the replacement generator, unless you want the enemy to get in here before you even get a chance to get us some power," Claire said, realising that her voice was slightly sharp. "I can stay here and do whatever you want me to do with Sam and Amelie. It's not exactly hard to look after two immobile beings, is it?"

Myrnin actually had the audacity to look as though he couldn't trust her, something which almost had Claire throwing him out of his own laboratory. "I suppose…I _could_ do that; it will take me much less time to fix it than you, and there are procedures in place in the bedroom so that if the draug does break through, it will keep them out of the main area long enough for you to call me, and for us to move locations."

Translation in Claire-talk: it would be enough time for her to call Frank and summon a portal, calling Myrnin as she dragged Amelie and Sam through the wormhole with her, praying that Myrnin would follow.

With what he'd only just said to her, she felt he deserved it.

"Whatever," she sighed, sitting down on the chair about four metres away from the two vampires. She couldn't sit closer than that to the pair of them – not for an extended time. It was too weird, seeing a dead man's body, and Amelie's so immobile, and she didn't want to accidentally nod off and then wake up to find vampires on either side of her.

"Whilst I'm gone, you can be powering the machines by hand." Myrnin surprised her by saying, bounding back into her line of vision with something in his hands: a box in one, two power cables in the other. As they stood there, the rain's effects on Claire's hearing increased, and Myrnin took a step closer to her ear so she could hear him. "You plug this onto their machines, right where the other cables are – leave it plugged on them for when the generator kicks into operation – and then you turn this handle. This will generate enough electricity, if you turn it fast enough, to power the machines for a short time; winding quickly for ten minutes allows for eight minutes' working. Then, naturally, you repeat the cycle."

As Myrnin handed her the portable device, Claire realised that he hadn't given her an option as to whether or not she would power the temporary machine; she was doing it, no exception – not that she should have expected anything else.

"Myrnin, I—" she began to say, but before she could get any further, she discovered he had left the room. He had moved so fast, getting down through the hole in the floor, that she hadn't even seen him complete the action; one moment he had been standing alongside her, the next, he was gone. All she had to remember him by was the machine in her hands.

Setting the candle down precariously on a tabletop, Claire quickly attached the ends of the cables to the machine backs – thankfully, there was an extra wire hole, otherwise it would have been impossible – and sat herself down on the chair. The machine was just small enough to fit on the seat inbetween her legs, and it was comfortable enough as she began to turn the handle, beginning to generate electricity to run the machines.

It took a few minutes at first, for the actual units to light up, indicating they were on, before she heard the whirring that made her think they were doing what they were supposed to, and during this time, the rain seemed to relax a little. It wasn't pounding as hard as before, she thought, and she could hear the machines working easier with every minute that had passed; either they were retreating, and this _had_ just been a random attack, or Magnus had made the decision to regroup and decide how best to proceed. She hoped with all her heart for the first option, though she knew the second was much more likely. Oliver ought to be warned, but she couldn't do that until her break from winding – something which was already causing her a problem.

There was a light on the machine she was turning that indicated to her how much longer she'd have to turn, how fast she was turning in miles per hour – something that made her appreciate just how fast cars went – and a reader to tell her when the electricity generated was at dangerously low levels. Currently, the light was a dull-amber colour, suggesting to Claire that she had a _long_ way to go before she could move away and get a drink, or even phone Oliver.

Gritting her teeth, Claire turned the handle in a steady rhythm, determined to not let it beat her. She would do this; she was not going to fail.

_~x~_

Just over ten minutes later, Claire was exhausted. Her efforts had ensured that there would be no need for her to turn the handle for a short while, and she had to say that she needed the break; it was long, arduous work, generating the electricity for not only at that second, but to build up so that she could have a break.

Even though it was still the middle of the day – unless time had managed to alter itself most drastically – Claire had to use the rapidly melting candle to move about, and it was only then did she realise that she missed the eclectic mix of lighting that usually lit the laboratory.

Still, keen not to waste her free time, Claire hastily dashed to the toilet – she didn't know how Myrnin planned on flushing out the waste, and she wasn't going to ask him – before heading to the fridge to find sugary foods, and a bottle of orange lucozade for energy; she was certain that she could be winding the handle up to another dozen times, and she wasn't sure if the cheese sandwich she'd eaten would be enough. But now…now it was time to ring Oliver.

"What have you got to tell me, Claire?" Oliver answered the phone after one ring, and Claire was certain that he had just been sat there, staring at the phone and willing it to ring. Then again, he had vamp quick reflexes, so maybe he'd been on his way to battle. With Oliver, you never knew.

"I want to just tell you that we're advancing towards our end goal slightly faster than originally believed," she replied, realising suddenly that ringing Oliver without considering what she was going to say was a very bad idea indeed. She'd have to be doubly sure not to mention Sam's name at all. "There's just been a _slight_ issue with the power cut…"

Oliver was suddenly much harder in tone, if that was possible, when he spoke again. "Power cut? How are you keeping Amelie's vitals in check? Myrnin told me that you had to monitor her, and that was why he wouldn't let her just come back to the Council building; _how're you doing this, Claire?"_ he hissed at the end, and Claire moved the phone away from her ear, quite deliberately. She was rather liking this whole communication with vampires on the phone thing; it meant that she could hang up on them, and pull all the faces she wanted – so long as they didn't find out, she was fine.

"I…uh…Myrnin is setting up the back-up generator – which is stronger than the original source, I think – so we'll be back to normal in no time," she replied, realising that she hadn't mentioned how power was being supplied right then. Sensing that that would be Oliver's next demand, she continued, "I'm currently running a hand-held machine to generate electricity to keep the machines we need going, until Myrnin tells me that the generator's up and running."

"Good," was all Oliver said, before he hung the phone up.

Claire stood there in disbelief for a few seconds before she too, moved the phone from her ear. She realised that the Oliver she'd seen that night with Amelie's body was an Oliver she would most likely never see again, even if Amelie survived, because that was one ruled by emotion; this one who she had just spoken to, well, he was just the same old Oliver, business first and pleasure way down in last place.

Things were very strange around here.

_~x~_

For the next ninety minutes, the pattern was the same: Claire would pump the handle until she was sure her arm would fall off, then she would eat and drink, check Amelie's machines and change the wires dependent on the reading. Sam, naturally, she did nothing for, and there was no call from Myrnin to suggest he was near to completing his mission; there had been one, brief flicker from the lights, but Claire presumed that was more linked to the main power line, rather than the generator and Myrnin's attempts to connect it up.

It was only when she'd repeated this nine times, that Claire encountered a problem.

Amelie was out of blood.

The human bloodbag that was feeding plasma into her arm had emptied to the point that the drip was sucking air into Amelie's arm, and nothing else; she was running dry. Claire knew there was blood in the fridge…but since the power had been off, the components would be clotting, and she wasn't sure if that kind of blood was right – after all, it was Myrnin's, and he could put _anything_ into his source.

No, there was only one way to ensure Amelie got decent blood – albeit with a slightly high glucose level – and that was to take her own blood.

Claire checked the monitor on the electricity machine and saw she had a good ninety percent of the electricity left; she could cut her arm and transfuse a good pint in that time, she was sure. And since the first time in the Donation Centre, she had seen her own blood so many times that she was certain she would be fine with it.

On the other side of the room, Claire happened across, quite by chance, the sterilised equipment that had been used when Myrnin last wanted a sample of her blood; it was lucky, because with only a stump of a candle left and dim lighting around the room from equally small candles, Claire was running out of lighting, and there was no way she would have been going through cupboards in the pitch black. Absolutely _no_ way, given what she knew Myrnin had kept over the years.

Sitting in the chair closest to Amelie, Claire set up the bag on the stand where the other had been, connecting the wires into the tube in Amelie's arm, before preparing her own arm for a puncture mark. With a sterile wipe, she cleared away the layer of grime that had built up almost without her realising, and tied a band around her arm to make her veins stand out more. Now, it was time to pick one.

Grimacing, Claire's fingers trembled slightly as she approached her skin with the needle, yet when she slid it in, she was fine; the line had gone directly into the vein she had wanted it to, and blood was streaming out and into the bag before going straight into Amelie's arm. It seemed that as quickly as she was producing the blood, Amelie was consuming it, and as the blood stream seemed to increase in speed, Claire's head grew more and more foggy.

Only then did she realise that she had no idea how much she had donated already: because the drip was going straight into Amelie's arm, none of it was staying in the bag longer than about ten seconds, so it was a pretty steady stream. Her head felt far too fuzzy, and the warning sound from the machine indicated to her that she'd been donating for about seven minutes, which seemed far too long…and the monitor that had the number Myrnin had rabbitted on about – what did it say?

Claire squinted, but she couldn't make out the individual numbers; she was too far away, and her head hurt too much. Too much blood was leaving her system – and it was bad.

With her last conscious movement, Claire ripped the needle from her arm, and felt herself falling to the floor the moment afterwards.

Just before her eyes closed, she was certain that she saw the flickering of lights before, finally, they steadied out to remain on. Or, maybe, that was just her imagination: after all, she'd lost a lot of blood.

* * *

I'd appreciate it if you didn't favourite or alert without reviewing, thank you.

And I'll update when I have ten reviews.


	10. Worry

_Chapter 10:_

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Myrnin was worried.

He seemed to spend a lot of time worrying, nowadays, and it was from before the Draug; he had worried for Amelie continually since Sam's death, worried for Claire after Ada tried to kill her and most of her actions which resulted in her near demise, and now, he was worried for everyone – even Oliver. His own survival depended on Oliver's, after all, given that they were all fighting against their eternal enemy, one which seemed almost invincible.

But now…now he had spent almost an hour and a half trying to link the generator to the laboratory, and he realised that he should have tested this out sooner – or at least cleaned the machine. He had spent the first half an hour removing enough of the grime so that he knew which hole was which, and at first, thought that he was doing well; there had been a brief connection between the laboratory and the power supply when he first began attempting to forge a connection, but since then…nothing.

Part of him wanted to admit defeat and to call for one of the technically aware vampires from the Council building, because in all honesty, Myrnin had no idea what he was doing, but he couldn't. He couldn't risk Oliver finding out, or the vampire discovering Sam and Amelie then they arrived—it seemed that everything he did had to pass the 'will Oliver find out?' test, and if it didn't, it didn't happen. And that irritated Myrnin. He hated running things by Oliver _anyway_, let alone without Oliver even being aware of the possible events.

Irritated and angered, Myrnin slammed his hand down on the machine.

And then he jumped.

The action of hitting the machine had caused some wires to move around…and _the generator was on!_ It was completely by accident and a quick once-over of the machine didn't give Myrnin any idea about how he had done it…but he had! Claire no longer had to turn the handheld generator, as she had been doing for the last however long—they were back to normal!

Myrnin found himself almost skipping the first few metres of his return to the laboratory, before deciding that speed was better than expressing his absolute delight at having a power supply and moving as quick as possible to return to the laboratory. Once he was back, he decided, he would ensure that Amelie was comfortable, relieve Claire from her duties if she had not noticed the electricity's return – with humans today, you could never know, Myrnin thought – and then begin to work extremely fast on finding a way to bring Sam back. The time was ticking, and Myrnin was aware of the fact that once they _had_ Amelie back, they had to find a way to defeat the Draug; it wasn't anywhere near over once Amelie was conscious, and he had to do something to eradicate their enemy – once and for all.

"Claire, I've fixed the generator!" he called as he jumped up through the hole back into the laboratory. Something was wrong…he just couldn't understand what it was; there was a heartbeat, the machines were all working, and neither Amelie nor Sam had disappeared. There had also been no break in. What was off kilter?

Then he realised it.

Claire wasn't talking.

Myrnin moved rapidly across the room to find Claire lying on the floor, her eyes closed and a tube in her arm – a tube that linked directly into the blood bag feeding Amelie. A cursory glance at the machine told Myrnin that Amelie had taken far too much of Claire's blood – the reading was off the scale, which worried Myrnin further – and he had to make a split second decision: help Claire immediately and risk Amelie being harmed, or help Amelie and then move his focus to Claire.

"Forgive me," he muttered to Claire, turning the dial on the blood bag to prevent any more entering Amelie's system, and reattaching a tube that began to draw the crimson liquid out of Amelie's other arm. The bag filled with Amelie's vampire blood was almost full, and Myrnin would have to change it soon – but now, his focus was on Claire.

He deftly removed the needle from her arm, noting how the few seconds it had been feeding into the storage unit hadn't amassed a great volume of liquid; she must have lost more blood than he had previously considered.

Once the needle and line were on the floor, Myrnin lifted Claire into his arms, thankful for the surplus of tables scattered around the place, and placed her down gently on one of them. He then gathered a blood bag from the fridge that matched her blood group, muttering to himself about the idiocy of those who are supposed to be extremely intelligent, and set up a drip with the last of the equipment, feeding blood back into Claire's body.

He just wondered how long it would take for her to wake up.

_~x~_

Almost forty five minutes later, Claire coughed and found herself waking up; her head ached, and she vaguely remembered setting herself up donating blood to Amelie, then falling to the floor, unconscious.

That was vastly different to the situation she was in upon awakening, which involved her lying on a table covered in sodium chloride – or at least what she _hoped_ was sodium chloride – and a drip feeding blood into _her_ body, rather than taking it out.

"Oh good, you're awake" she heard Myrnin say, and she sat up to see him facing her, his expression neutral. "I had wondered whether I would have to take you to Theo to wake you up, but evidently not."

Claire swung her legs off the table and immediately felt dizzy – evidently, her blood sugar levels were far too low for her to stand up right. "Can you get me some chocolate?" she asked Myrnin weakly, wondering whether or not he would do it for her.

"I am not your servant," he told her, yet he set down the bottles in his hand and moved over to the kitchenette to gather a bar of chocolate and a drink for Claire, which he promptly handed her. "Eat and drink, gather your strength, then take a sample of Amelie's blood and measure the readings of the minerals in it – I want to see if they are about average, or if the Draug have affected her at all."

Claire ate and drank the glucose-rich produce quickly and waited for their effects to take hold before she began to do what Myrnin requested. It would take a while, she knew, because she wasn't an expert at analysing blood, but she had to do it; Myrnin was busy making the copper device for Sam, and there was no chance that she could suggest she take over that. She didn't even understand the _basics_ of alchemy; creating something that Myrnin could probably barely create was evidently out of her league.

"You know when we bring Sam back, and therefore bring Amelie back?" Claire said, breaking the silence that was growing in the lab.

"Yes…?" Myrnin replied, and Claire knew from his tone that he was distracted.

"What…what are we going to tell Oliver?" she asked, her voice a bit of a mumble because of how quickly she rushed the words out. "I mean, we have to tell him _something, _because he is sort of in charge, and even if he stays when Amelie comes back, he'll want to know why Amelie doesn't want to be with him anymore—" she was cut off by Myrnin.

"We don't think about that," he said, his tone firm. "We are the scientists; we do the work that brings about the change. The aftermath of our actions is not for us to sort out; Amelie can deal with that – she is the diplomat, not me, or even you. Now, have you finished analysing that?"

Claire was slightly scared of Myrnin…not because she was scared he was going to hurt her, but because of how matter of fact he was being about the situation. He didn't seem worried about the Draug whatsoever, and more than that, he honestly didn't care that Oliver would be devastated – _not_ that the warlord would show it. She knew that Myrnin hated Oliver, and that the feeling was mutual, but the fact that the alchemist wasn't even concerned about how it would impact on the entire fight – that worried her.

Yet what could she say? Myrnin had made it clear that they weren't to worry about it, that she was to remain focused on their task, and if he thought she was thinking about it…well, she didn't know what he would do to ensure she focused, but she knew that it wouldn't be pleasant. Perhaps it _was_ better to remain focused on saving Amelie, rather than sparing Oliver's feelings, in the long run – perhaps Myrnin was right, perhaps they were only scientists who had no power in the rest of the world.

She didn't believe that.

_~x~  
(this is about three or four hours after the above section)_

Across town, Oliver had prepared his plans for battle; they were going to launch attacks simultaneously across town, rather than at different times, so that their enemy had no chance to regroup. Most of the water was gathered in various locations, so that would be where their attacks were focused, and Oliver was fairly confident of victory in these small battles. They wouldn't win the final fight – they needed Amelie to fight Magnus, somehow – and they wouldn't even try and wager that battle yet, but Oliver was _certain _that they would at least deplete the number of their enemies over the coming hours.

"Collins!" he barked, motioning for Shane to approach him, which he did with a sullen expression. "You're leading the human force which will head towards the back of Common Grounds. Are you prepared?" the smile on Oliver's face was cruel; he knew that, of their forces, most humans would perish during these battles – in his calculations, he had only counted vampires coming back. If any humans did, that was a bonus, but he sincerely doubted they would make it to the end, to the fight against the Master Draug. Oliver wasn't concerned if they didn't; there was an ample blood supply to last the vampires if every human fighting perished, and there were always those hiding in their homes…

"Obviously, Oliver," Shane rolled his eyes, and Oliver barely resisted hitting him about the head. Since the boy had disappeared a few hours earlier, he seemed…different, as though he knew something that Oliver didn't.

That irritated Oliver. Everything that was going on, _he_ had to know about; the only slight issue with that was Myrnin and Claire, but he had the gist of what was going on – after the next few hours' battle, he would force his way into the laboratory, by whatever means necessary, and discover what they were doing to his Amelie. After all, he had to know what progress they had made with Amelie's revival, if any at all, and then manipulate his hastily drawn plans accordingly.

"You're most likely going to die out there," Oliver told Shane honestly, handing him a silver pellet gun, ignoring the slight irritation it caused his skin. "Do you have any last words you want to tell me, any last insights into the Collins mind you want to burden me with?"

Shane hesitated, and Oliver was shocked; he was expecting a prepared comeback filled with sarcasm, but there was nothing. The boy was actually considering his words.

"Summon Frank," he said finally, looking as though he was torn between telling Oliver or not. "Tell him that I said to give permission to go to the lab…and then go. Don't call ahead and tell them…just go. And discover what they're doing to bring back your precious Amelie."

Before Oliver could respond, Shane had picked up his weapon bag and was summoning the humans he was taking on his mission with him.

Oliver knew it was a suicide mission he had sent the boy on…but his words distracted Oliver. Myrnin and Claire were doing something with Amelie that they didn't want Oliver to know about – he knew that already. But if it was something that _Shane_ thought wrong…then that narrowed the field down to extremely heinous methods.

Suddenly, Oliver was even more intent on getting into the laboratory than before.

* * *

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	11. Hiding

_Chapter 11:_

Ok, so the first part of this chapter is continuing from Claire's POV last chapter, therefore it's before Oliver makes the decision to get into the lab. That's just so that you're not all confused!

* * *

Claire was irritated as she finished the analysis of the blood. "I still don't see why we can't at least _warn_ Oliver that this is happening," she moaned, more to herself than Myrnin. "I mean, he _will_ find out, so why not just tell him?"

The sudden absence of Myrnin's muttering to himself, along with the decisive slamming of a screwdriver onto the work bench made Claire realise that she had said something wrong; once again, she had ignored his orders to be quiet about this—and he was angry. He didn't need to say anything; as Claire turned around and saw the anger in his eyes, that was more than enough.

"Sorry," she muttered, before shaking her head; she wasn't sorry, so why was she apologising? "Actually, I think you're wrong to be doing this." it was bold for her to do this, to oppose Myrnin on such an important issue, but she felt that she was right; it wasn't fair to keep Oliver as in the dark as he was. He would need to know the mental state Amelie would be in when she returned, and how to arrange his plans, as well as for his own mental stability. It was only right that he was alerted to Sam being brought back from the dead.

"Oh, really, Claire?" Myrnin said, his voice sharp and containing a bitter edge she hadn't heard from him before. "Tell me why you, a young human, think you know better than _me_, someone who has fought this enemy before, because I am _extremely_ intrigued as to why you would think this." As he spoke, he lifted his feet to be on the bench next to the nearly finished device he was creating; the pose was sarcastic, and Claire could feel the anger radiating from him.

"It's not as simple as just Oliver being in charge of fighting and us bringing back Amelie!" Claire shot back, taking a deep breath before she continued. She wanted to be as level headed as possible in arguing her case, because she felt that it would make more of an impact. "He has emotional interests vested in Amelie, just like you do—but the thing is, Oliver won't do anything until he knows how Amelie is. He'll want to see her when she's back, but do you think that she's going to care about him? You're blind to see that Oliver will be _crushed_ by Sam's return, because you hate him.

"I dislike the man, but I don't hate him like you do. Your view of this situation is tainted because of your feelings, no matter how much you're trying to argue that there is absolutely nothing other than scientific opinion in this decision to keep Oliver out of the lab. Just admit that I'm right!"

Claire realised then that she had gone too far; as she finished speaking, Myrnin's eyes locked with hers, and they were filled with a fury that she had only ever seen directed towards Bishop—yet now he was looking at her. And he was looking at her as though he wanted to destroy her.

For one long, _long_ second, Claire felt scared; she was running through in her mind the ways that she could avoid Myrnin's fangs sinking into her neck, and came to one conclusion: she wasn't fast enough. She could stake him, perhaps, but not quick enough.

However, after what seemed like an age, the fury faded from Myrnin's face, and he replaced it with a perfectly neutral expression, yet with that, Claire could see the hardness within the planes of his face; he wasn't going to forget what she had said. "I am going to finish this device," he replied, his voice devoid of any emotion; it was as though he was a computer, merely passing on a message to Claire. He didn't seem to know her. "You can do whatever you feel is right. If you want to go and tell Oliver what is going on, I will not stop you—just know that Amelie will not come back if you do." the threat was there, and Claire knew it; Myrnin was bargaining with Amelie's life, with _all_ of their lives, trying to manipulate her into staying here and not telling Oliver.

"I won't tell him—_yet_," she said, stressing the last word as much as she dared to in the current situation. "But when she's back, he's definitely going to be told. There is no getting around it."

The faintest glimmer of a smile hung about Myrnin's lips, yet it scared Claire; it wasn't his usual smile, no, it was one filled with coldness and a bitterness she had only seen in Amelie and Bishop before. Evidently, the alchemist shared the emotion with his fellow ancients. "In that case, go and prepare bloodbags from the fridge for both Amelie and Sam, and arrange me a bowl of hot, soapy water," Myrnin said, his voice only slightly more familiar than before. "And _do_ ensure that it's kept far away from the electricity cables; I have no desire to go and fix that generator again."

Claire nodded as she did as she was told, breathing a heavy sigh of relief that she was indeed still alive after speaking to Myrnin as she did. She had learnt her lesson: Myrnin was as scary as Amelie and Oliver, when he put his mind to it.

That injected more fear into her than anything else.

_~x~_

Forty five minutes later, Myrnin said the words Claire had been waiting (and dreading) to hear: "it's ready."

Intrigued, Claire set aside the pile of cloths she had been folding—Myrnin had decided, after her outburst, that she was not to do anything to do with the rescue mission and so he had her doing menial tasks—and moved closer to the bench that housed the alchemical device.

It was nothing like Claire had thought it would be; its edges were ragged, dangerous looking, and the brass had all tarnished due to being manipulated into coils and twisted into place. Random pieces of wire stuck up from the device, and there were coloured pieces of metal, their importance something that Claire couldn't understand. All in all, it looked like a complete and utter mess, if she was honest, and definitely didn't look as though it was capable of raising the dead.

It looked as though a three year old had been let loose in the craft cupboard—not that she would tell Myrnin that.

"Will it work?" was the question she dared to ask, averting her gaze from the device to look at Myrnin. It was safer than possibly looking sceptical at the copper.

"Yes," he said, confidence oozing out of his voice. "I have double checked the basic structure with the three reference points I have, and the additions I have made will merely help gather the electrical current to the right point. These nodes will ensure that it passes all the way through his body, and then when _this_ button lights up," Myrnin points to something Claire had missed on the side of the device, "it will alert me to start feeding Amelie's blood into his body. It will tell us when we are ready to finish bringing Sam back from the dead."

Still hesitant, Claire nodded, but managed to seem as though she wholeheartedly believed in what Myrnin was doing, somehow. She didn't say anything, merely watched as Myrnin carried the device over to the table beside Sam's body and set it down carefully, as though it were the crown jewels—which, to their town, it was. It was one thousand times more precious.

It was the device for their salvation.

"Hand me the bowl of water, Claire," Myrnin said quietly, his voice quieter as he sat beside the dead man's corpse; it was almost in respect, Claire thought. "_Quickly_!"

Resisting the urge to tell him that she couldn't move any quicker, Claire pushed the water bucket—there were no bowls that didn't contain chemicals—to Myrnin and watched in half-admiration, half-disgust as Myrnin stripped Sam's shirt off and began to wash down his chest.

The water ran black from where the soil had managed to penetrate both the coffin and the clothing covering Sam's skin, but soon it was clean and ready for the copper instrument to be placed on it.

"Claire, I need you to completely unplug Amelie," Myrnin said, his hands keeping the thing on Sam's chest steady. "I cannot move now; you are my hands for now, just as I was yours, once. Please Claire, do as I ask and this will be over quicker than it otherwise will be."

She nodded slowly, just hoping that she wouldn't be required to touch Sam, and did as Myrnin asked, removing the wires from Amelie's body, and turning the machines off—there was no point wasting power. As she did this, there was almost a gasp that issued from Amelie's lips, the first sound that she had emitted since Magnus bit her, but even though Myrnin _had_ to have heard, he chose to ignore it.

"Now, I need you to find the power cable that connects everything from the generator, and then bring the end to me," Myrnin said calmly.

At this, Claire froze. "You want me to handle live electric wires with no protective equipment?" she confirmed, her eyes wide in shock. "Are you insane? Do you _want_ me dead or something?"

"There is something that you can use to move the wire in that corner, Claire—prongs, or something—but if you would rather, you can hold this device whilst I do it; it is of no concern to me what I do," Myrnin said, and Claire could hear that he was struggling to keep calm. This was affecting him as much as her, she realised, but the audible snapping of his teeth stopped her pensive moment and had her running to fetch the power supply.

"Now, Claire, what I require you to do is simple," Myrnin said once he had the device in one hand and the end of the power cable in the other.

"What is it?" she asked, confused. A dent formed between her eyebrows as she tried to figure out just _what_ could be simple about this.

"I need you to go into the bedroom and hide, locking the door as you do," he said. "There is a good chance that when Sam wakes up, he will not respond properly. You do not want to die. So hide, preferably wrapping yourself in some of my possessions so that you do not have your usual scent; I don't want you to move until I tell you to come out—do you understand?"

As fear circulated through her body, Claire nodded once to show that she understood Myrnin's instructions. "Good luck," she whispered, her legs feeling like lead as she trudged towards the bedroom.

He didn't say anything in response.

_~x~_

Ten minutes later, she was in position, and called, "I'm ready," through, just incase Myrnin was waiting for that.

The massive eruption of light and the sound of nails being scraped along a chalkboard suggested that maybe he had been.

* * *

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	12. Copper

_Myrnin's POV:_

It was a struggle to remain in position as the device began to shake and tremble, its temperature increasing to levels where it was almost dangerous for a vampire, but every time that he considered letting go and running, he remembered why he was doing as he was. He was doing this to bring Sam back, so that Amelie would return also; he was doing it so that their leader was there to lead them into what could still be the final battle they ever fought in. As Claire had pointed out before, this wasn't the last stage in the fight against Magnus; they were lucky if it was even halfway along.

_And_ he had to tell Oliver that Sam was back, so whatever had been between him and Amelie was over. That was probably going to be harder than bringing someone back from the dead—which was hard enough, most assuredly.

Myrnin growled to himself as he had to let go of the copper by everything but the very tips of his fingertips. It glowed a deep, fiery red, one that signalled to Myrnin that he had moved his hands just in the nick of time—and it also told him that the device was doing its job. It was bringing Sam back.

The wires that attached to the device were soon placed on Sam's temples, the electrical impulses already running through his body; Myrnin couldn't allow the device to recharge Sam's heart, because a beating heart in the body of a vampire…it would be something that had never occurred before, and Myrnin had no desire to chance it when so much hung on bringing this man back.

"Come on," he growled, waiting for the colour of the copper mess on Sam's chest to dull back down to the usual colour; that signalled that the energy was feeding into Sam's brain tissue, and therefore meant that he could turn on the blood feeds into the five different parts of Sam's body. There were 'taps', for want of a better word, in Sam's chest, legs, one arm and then his neck; this was to speed up the dispersion of the blood, and so that he would hopefully revive faster than if the blood was only moving through from his arms.

He could hear Claire in his bedroom, wrapped up in the various cloths that littered the floor—most of them weren't even clothes, given that he used it more as a storage room than a resting one—and wondered for a second if he had sent her in there too prematurely…no, he decided moments later, he hadn't. There was a chance that Sam could wake up at any stage along the refilling of his body, and if he came back too early…he would replenish himself with Claire's blood, even if that poisoned him. His system needed to be entirely composed of Amelie's blood for the next few hours, which would strengthen their bond and hopefully cause her brain to realise Sam's presence sooner than otherwise—at least, Myrnin hoped. He had long ago ventured into the world of theories and guess work in this case (though, in honesty, that was how he operated best) and he truly had no ideas as to whether or not it would take more than a few seconds to bring Amelie back.

All he knew was that he had to do it quickly. Claire had told him that as soon as Sam was back, Oliver was finding out—and even if he kept her in the bedroom with no access to a phone, Myrnin knew she would find a way out. Thanks to her relationship with his son, as well as the fact that she was human, Frank preferred Claire to him, and if she wanted a portal, she would get it, regardless of his orders. The man knew that Myrnin would never actually unplug him; and anyway, Frank would probably find that a blessing.

No, Myrnin had to get this completed within the next hour at most, otherwise he would find himself an angry vampire in his laboratory before either the dead one was brought back, or the dying one could be revived.

Thankfully, he had always liked a challenge.

* * *

_Oliver's POV:_

He felt stupid, trying to summon a one-time vampire…who was now the machine…who hated vampires. It made no sense to Oliver, if he thought about it properly, so he focused on the fact that Shane Collins had told him that it would work. Before this day, Oliver never thought that he would trust a word the Collins boy said; now, it seemed that he could potentially owe his life to the boy and his force that had been dispatched to take care of the Draug, and also to find out what was happening with Amelie.

Oliver was furious that Myrnin—or Claire—hadn't kept him informed about Amelie's progress, but he wasn't going to overly fret about that now he had the access to their centre. It was too dangerous to walk around to the laboratory, even though it was perhaps only four hundred metres away; the Draug were everywhere, and from the reports, they had been targeting the area of Myrnin's shack. They obviously knew that there was something important there; Oliver only hoped that the alchemist hadn't been so naïve as to forget that he had to use bottled water, rather than the normal system.

Anyway, from what Oliver knew of Myrnin, the madman would probably have set up a system that meant that anyone trying to enter the lab from outside would blow them all sky-high—though it _would_ be an ingenious method to get rid of the Draug.

Deciding to get it over with—he was just wasting valuable planning time—Oliver cleared his throat and said, "Frank? Your son said for me to contact you."

A tingling on the back of Oliver's neck, and a deep, throaty grunt behind him signalled that the ghost-corporeal image had decided to make a visit. "You're lucky that I was listening in to know that you're telling the truth, or I'd tell the crazy bloodsucker that you're really an enemy of Amelie's," he said to Oliver, laughing as he did so. "What do you want? To get into the laboratory, I suppose," he presumed, and Oliver nodded, irritated that he had to co-operate with this person.

"That is the intended idea, yes," he confirmed. "I need to find out what the d—Myrnin is doing, in order to ensure that he doesn't do something to jeopardise our safety," he continued, deciding not to openly insult Myrnin with such an obvious anti-vampire person. Frank Collins may have been a ghost, but he still had influence in Morganville, Oliver was certain. And confirming with a one-time terrorist that the two most influential male vampires had issues…it was basically asking for trouble.

Frank surveyed Oliver with a look that made Oliver wish the image was really there, so that he could strangle the man himself. He just looked so smug, because he knew what was going on and Oliver didn't—another thing that annoyed him. The fact that one of the most anti-vampire men knew every single detail of the town and its security measures scared Oliver, and yet Amelie permitted it. He could do nothing.

Underneath the smugness, however, Oliver was certain that Frank had some deep rooted concern for whatever was occurring in the laboratory. "Oh, believe me, _bloodsucker_, it's something that you want to be worried about," Frank said, not exactly filling Oliver with confidence. Then again, he did think that even their existence was wrong, so there was a chance… "Let's just say that you don't want to be getting too comfy in your ruling seat, because it ain't going to be yours for too much longer."

Oliver sighed. "If I must remind you, _you_ were a vampire before you were turned into this ghost machine thing, I don't really understand and frankly, I don't care." He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "Frank, take me to the laboratory…please." Oliver's voice hitched on the final word, but he managed to force it out—though he did accompany it with an extremely dirty look.

Frank merely stared at him for an entire minute, then burst out into a burst of throaty laughter, one that startled Oliver. "Actually, your position as consort is probably under threat, too," he said, confusing Oliver: why would that happen? Unless…but no. That was impossible. "But go ahead and check out what's happening to your _lady friend_; I wouldn't want to be the one in the way of the truth now, would I?"

Finally, a door materialised in front of Oliver, and he knew that whatever restrictions on the laboratory Myrnin had insisted upon, they had been cancelled out. "I thank you for this, Frank."

Before Oliver reached the door, his conversational partner had moved to stand in front of him, and whilst Oliver would walk through him, that wasn't the point. "Don't think I'm doing this for you, leech," Frank hissed. "I'm doing this because it's the right thing to do, and because the girl wants you to know what's going on. Whatever you find…you lay a finger on Claire, and you're dead. Got that?"

Whilst the threat was laughable—and would normally be laughed at—Oliver had the good sense not to bother reacting. "Yes, yes, I accept your terms, if you will get out of my way and permit me to discover what is going on!"

With that, Oliver marched forwards towards the portal, his hand grasping the doorknob, and he hesitated—just for a moment, but he did. He knew that whatever he would see beyond the door would change him forever; it would change everything in Morganville. And he wasn't sure if he was ready to see it.

Then again, he argued in his mind, if it was a choice between not knowing (or at least, not knowing until later) and discovering how things were going to be different now, so he had a chance to prepare, he would take the latter option.

And so Oliver pulled the door open to reveal the laboratory beyond—and saw a sight that he never, ever expected to see.

* * *

_Myrnin's POV:_

It took almost twenty minutes for the blood to filter into Sam's body, and Myrnin was pleased to note that the vampire didn't wake up during this time; his body was moving in accordance with the blood filling his system, but he didn't open his eyes or attempt to speak.

He was awake, though, conscious, and preparing his body to live eternal life mark two—and that scared Myrnin as much as it intrigued him. He had brought someone back who had suffered not one, but two deaths, and whilst that was something to be remarked upon…it was scary. Here, in this copper device, Myrnin had the power of life and death, albeit restricted by certain factors.

And then, what he had been waiting for happened: Sam's eyes opened.

Their colour was as Myrnin remembered them—a deep blue that glistened, even with the limited light in the underground building. They even had a little of the kindness that used to be there, though the overarching emotion was confusion, something evident in the way that his face scrunched up, also.

"I…what…where am I?" he said slowly, sitting himself up slowly. Myrnin didn't do anything to stop him; as far as returning from the dead vampires went, Sam seemed normal. Compared to _any_ vampire, Sam seemed relatively normal, in Myrnin's eyes. "Myrnin! Why am I in your laboratory? We…we were on the stage—Bishop! What happened?!"

Myrnin hesitated; how much did he pass on before he had Sam bring Amelie back around? "A long time has passed since then, Sam; I regret to inform you that I had to bring you back from the dead." The final word lingered in the air, as the half naked vampire froze in his position, nearly completely sitting upright.

"No," he breathed, and Myrnin knew that if he was going to go crazy, this would be the time. Once again, Myrnin was glad that Claire was locked away in his bedroom, for there was always the possibility. "I can't have been. I mean, I remember being in Amelie's arms, being told that she loves me…but after that, there's absolutely nothing. Nada. I can't remember…Myrnin, I can't remember."

The opposite reaction to what Myrnin expected occurred: Sam began to cry. It wasn't girly tears like Claire often shed, but it was just as painful for Myrnin to watch. He should have known, though; he should have known that Sam, the most humane of all vampires, including his grandson, wouldn't have reacted violently.

"That's because you were dead," he said quietly. "And…and I couldn't bring you back, not without a reason. I'm sorry Sam, truly, but the balance between the worlds had to be kept—and it still must be. Someone must be sacrificed because I had to bring you back."

Sam froze.

"Why did you bring me back now, then?" he asked Myrnin, his voice cracking. "I cannot have the guilt that I am back due to someone else's unknowing sacrifice resting on my shoulders—wait…_Amelie!_"

It was in that moment that Sam moved, and Myrnin realised his greatest faux pas: he hadn't moved Amelie from where Sam was being brought back. Whilst he had thought that the moment Sam returned Amelie would also, he was only theorising, and evidently he was wrong—and he had only succeeded in provoking Sam into anger in the one way possible: through Amelie.

"She is perfectly alright…well, no she isn't," Myrnin said, realising that he couldn't lie to Sam. "I had to—"

"Tell me truthfully," Sam whispered, having moved to take Amelie's hand. He was kneeling by her side, and as Myrnin towered over the two of them, he realised just how beautiful they were together, and how unfortunate it was that they had been torn apart—but also that perhaps there was a reason for why they could not be allowed to stay together. Perhaps he had completely destroyed the divine way that the world was set up.

"What?"

Sam tore his eyes from Amelie to look Myrnin in his, the grief there evident. "Myrnin, she didn't do this to herself to let me come back, did she? She…she didn't let you kill her, to bring me back…please say she didn't."

Myrnin shook his head. "She was already like that; we—myself and Claire—needed you back to provoke something in Amelie's mind that the Draug—lifelong enemy, I'll explain more about them once we have our Founder—to bring her back to consciousness."

Before Sam could speak, the bedroom door unlocked and Claire stepped out hesitantly, peering around the door before fully stepping out, as though she was looking to see if Sam had gone completely crazy, as Myrnin had told her he may well do.

"I thought I told you to _stay in there_!" he found himself snapping at her, unable to keep his temper in the stress of the moment. "Did I call for you to come out?"

"Has Sam gone crazy?" she shot back, though Myrnin could tell that she was still hesitant to come within a ten metre radius of the three vampires.

As they argued about whether she should have exited the bedroom without Myrnin's permission, Myrnin noted that Sam just completely ignored them; he wasn't even concerned to see Claire. His focus was on Amelie, his hand wrapped around hers, his head next to hers, as though it was just the two of them in the world.

"Myrnin, come quickly!" Sam yelled across towards Myrnin, just as he felt the power shift that accompanied the summoning of a portal; evidently, Frank had once again broken his orders—and he was letting _Oliver_ through!

"Myrnin!" Sam yelled again, evidently not aware that within seconds, his return was about to be made very clear to Oliver; he would see the previously dead vampire standing up, completely alive.

And at that moment, the door opened…and Oliver stepped through.

The expression on his face was priceless; if it wasn't so tense and potentially dangerous, Myrnin would have laughed as Oliver took in the way that himself and Claire were stood arguing, and then that…Sam was sitting beside…

Sitting beside a woman who suddenly had eyes that were wide open.

Myrnin suddenly wondered if he had made a mistake about who Amelie loved the most.

* * *

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	13. Eyes

_Chapter 13:_

* * *

_Claire's POV:_

It was almost comical, the way that Oliver sprung across the room, grabbing Myrnin and throwing him to the floor—or, at least, it would have been, had she not been standing a metre away from him, and if Amelie's eyes hadn't just opened. Given that the vampire who they had been waiting to awake _was_ awake, Claire felt that that ought to be the priority, yet it seemed that Oliver didn't agree; if the way that he was attacking Myrnin was any indication, he most certainly did not care.

Whilst they grappled silently on the floor, Myrnin merely struggling to hold his own against the much stronger fighter, Claire moved slowly across the room towards Sam and Amelie, keeping her distance as she tried to analyse the woman lying on the sofa. Her eyes were fluttering, barely able to keep open for longer than a few seconds, and her attempts to move her head side to side were feeble, though Claire felt that this could be attributed to blood shortages—it was all she could think of, anyway. Her head was buzzing, given how much had happened in such a short space of time, and was continuing to happen…

Sam didn't seem to notice Claire as she stood there, trying to make a judgement about what to do with regards to treatment. Something had to be administered to the Founder, and fast, yet Claire knew that Myrnin was far too busy with Oliver, and there was _no_ way that she was getting involved in that fight. So, using her judgement, Claire headed over to the fridge and tentatively picked out some of the blood bags in there, holding them at arm's length as she crossed the room.

When she was merely a metre from Amelie's stirring body, Sam's head snapped up, and his eyes locked on Claire. All he was seeing was a threat to Amelie, so Claire held up her hands, and said, "I'm not going to hurt her. I just want to give her blood, alright?"

It was as though she was nothing to him; the only response he gave her words was to curtly nod, his attention drifting back to Amelie instantly, his hand wrapping tighter around hers, and Claire realised that this was one of the prices to his return: he would never leave Amelie's side again, if he could help it. There was nothing to distract from his love for Amelie, especially now that she needed him just as much as he needed her—and she had shown it.

Within another thirty seconds, Claire had set up the blood bags and had turned on the tap to allow the blood to enter her system, not sure if there were any sort of scans that had to be run, or analysis of her movements and by how much she was moving, because Myrnin was _still_ on the floor, fighting.

"If you two don't stop fighting now, I'll find a gun and fire a stake at you both, and whomever it hits will win, is that clear?" she yelled at the two scrapping vampires, not caring that she had just threatened the two eldest, most powerful males in Morganville with death. It wasn't her style usually, but this was what desperate measures had called for.

And yet they still didn't stop fighting.

As they rolled, Claire had to keep dodging out of the way as their bodies crashed into tables and knocked glass vials off the tables, alongside most of the books that she and Myrnin had used for their research, causing her to scream out in frustration.

"STOP IT!" she shrieked, and yet, as she expected, neither of the vampires stopped. In fact, if anything, their speed seemed to only increase.

It was time for desperate measures.

Her eyes alert, Claire looked around to find a piece of wood long and sharp enough to immobilise one of the vampires, if it got them through the heart, and stepped up towards where the two bodies were rolling at that moment in time. Counting to three in her head, she threw the piece of wood and smiled slightly as it came into contact with one of them, causing a groan to escape Oliver's lips, and the fighting to cease.

Myrnin stood up hastily moving across to stand behind Claire. "I…you almost killed me!" he said, sounding defensive as he made sure that he was covered by the human.

"Are you grateful or not?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as she took a step to the left, Myrnin following.

"Yes, I am, thank you, Claire," he begrudgingly said, before turning around to face Amelie. "Now, now, just what have we here?" he asked, almost to himself, but before he could say anything further, Oliver was back on his feet.

Pulling the wood from his arm—evidently, Claire's moving target aim needed work—Oliver snarled as he advanced towards Myrnin, stopping approximately a metre away from Claire. "I promised the machine that I wouldn't hurt you, girl, but I promised nothing about the dog," Oliver snarled.

Claire sighed. "Can you at least wait to kill him _after_ he's gotten the leader of you all sorted, because I haven't a clue about what to do?" she asked, not acknowledging Myrnin's whimper of fear. "It would be most helpful, as after all, you're not even meant to be here yet. I had plans to come and tell you after this had happened," she continued, trailing off as she reached the end, Oliver's eyebrow raising slightly more with every word she said.

"You mean that you were going to come and tell me, informing me that the Founder had returned, and that alongside her, there was her deceased vampire lover, who was apparently needed…for _what_ purposes did you bring back that ginger idiot?" Oliver snapped, rubbing the place on his arm where the wood had entered. "And next time, don't stake me in the arm. It's rather annoying."

This time, it was Claire who raised an eyebrow. "If you had stopped fighting when I told you to, then you wouldn't have needed to be staked—if it makes you feel better, I was aiming for the heart, and I wasn't bothered if I hit you or Myrnin."

"Very fair that is, Claire, I thought you were on my side," Myrnin, very audibly, grumbled as he began to poke and prod at Amelie and her tubes.

Simultaneously, Oliver shot him the dirtiest look possible, and Claire said, "shut up, Myrnin, this is all your fault, you know," before turning back to Oliver. "As for Sam, I can explain that later…but basically, the Draug infected a part of Amelie's brain to make her need what she desires the most…which we knew was Sam, as you _had_ been with her for ages before we brought her here. So, to return Amelie to life, we had to bring _Sam_ back from the dead—which was disgusting, let me tell you right now—and then you just came in, so I completely missed the reawakening, so thank you very much for that."

Oliver didn't look impressed at Claire's explanation; in fact, he didn't even look at her. Claire could tell, without even looking, that he was staring at Amelie's body which was obscured by both Sam and Myrnin. He was most probably looking at the way that Sam's gaze was locked onto Amelie's face, just waiting for her eyes to remain open long enough to see him and to show him how much she loved him—and Claire knew that he had to be breaking inside.

"I shall deal with _you_ later," Oliver snapped at Myrnin, taking a step back towards the portal. With how he was walking, Claire could just tell that he was dazed and confused, those being the main reasons for his lack of further questioning. "I, however, shall go and co-ordinate our Founder's army, and begin to put the final touches to the plan that I created for when she returned…goodbye." With that, Oliver stepped through the portal hastily, as though he needed to be out of their sight for something, and Claire felt both relieved and wretched at the same time.

She took a step towards the three vampires, however, pushing thoughts of Oliver out of her mind; whilst he was important, most certainly, they had to make sure that Amelie had been brought fully back to life so that she could lead their troops into the final battle (or whatever she wanted to do; Claire knew as much about vampire fighting plans as she did about bringing people back from the dead) and Oliver wasn't a part of that. He was Amelie's fighter, not her lover; that was Sam.

"I…uh…what's going on?" she said hesitantly, stopping on the other side of the sofa, not wanting to advance any closer to a vampire who had been dead for six months, one who was probably going insane after his fight with Oliver, and the one who had been infected with their enemy's bite without having confirmation that it was safe.

Nobody answered her for a minute: Amelie still barely moving, Sam focused on her, and Myrnin…Claire had no idea what he was doing as he tapped at different glass pipes, changing them around until they made a certain pitched sound. Finally, though, when he had reached the end of the line, he looked up at Claire and motioned for her to go to him, rolling his eyes when she shook her head. "It's perfectly safe, Claire, there's nothing in here that will hurt you."

She didn't believe that for a second, but did as he asked anyway, positioning herself so that if necessary, she had the machines between her and the vampires—not the best defence, but it was all she had. "What's going on? Why isn't she awake properly yet?"

Myrnin rolled his eyes again, saying, "patience is a virtue, Claire, and it looks as if you don't posses it," as he did so. He straightened up and handed Claire a notebook that she hadn't seen before. "Whilst her brain may have been re-awakened, she must process this slowly—too fast, and we run the risk of her turning into one of our enemy, which, if you cannot tell, wouldn't be the best thing to happen. So we let her do it at her own speed, which may take a few more hours, or it may only take another minute or two."

"So you mean that now she's back, it's even more of a guessing game than it was before?" Claire confirmed, sighing as Myrnin nodded his head. "Do you _ever_ know what you're doing, or is everything just guess work with you?"

"I shall stand here with Sam and Amelie, ensuring that the former does not go insane, and the latter doesn't grow slime; you can do whatever you like, as long as I don't have to hear your voice," Myrnin said sharply, and Claire realised then that he was irritated at what she had done in interfering with his fight with Oliver. "Though it would be preferential if you didn't get yourself killed; I haven't the time to find another human to help me with my experiments about how to get rid of the Draug."

Claire just about resisted the urge to flip him off, Eve style, as she walked across the room towards the kitchen, determined to eat something now that the main issue was overcome. _Her_ most important task (to bring Amelie back) had been completed, and she was starving. She didn't care what Myrnin was going to do; she was having a sandwich, and that was all she was concerned about at the current moment in time.

_Shane's POV:_

It was dark in Morganville, and it was raining sporadically, as though the Draug weren't entirely sure where the enemy were. Shane couldn't help but wonder why Oliver had sent them out now, in the darkness, when they would have had much more of an advantage during the daytime, when they were able to _see_. He had absolutely no idea where he was heading, just that they were driving along the road, heading to Common Grounds, where apparently there was a great chance of the Draug being. They knew that it was a vampire haunt, and probably wouldn't have the savvy to tell that the vampires had all disappeared.

At least, Shane figured that that was Oliver's reasoning—and he had no qualms with that.

As they drove along, having to abandon the car about one hundred metres away from their intended location, Shane thought about how strange things were; he was actually willing to die…for the vampires. He had never thought he would say that—but if his death meant that Claire would be saved, he would do anything. His love for her was something that he couldn't explain; it felt as though it was too strong and that it would shatter at any moment, due to the intensity—and perhaps it would. Perhaps they were only weeks away from ending it, especially given how distant Claire had been for weeks, and whatever happened tonight would merely mean that the words "we're over" would never have to be said.

Shane was willing to die tonight, to protect everyone he loved…though he would much rather stay alive.

"This way," he said to the men and women behind him, all following his orders given that Oliver made him the boss of their little squadron. He indicated the direction they were heading in, lighting the way with one of the torches he had on his person, and very slowly, began to advance.

Making sure that the way was clear, Shane led the group down the main street in Morganville, avoiding the still-running vampire cars that littered the street as he approached the front of Common Grounds. They had to find a way around the side of it to the back; there was an alleyway but he was certain that the paranoid owner would have secured it so that nobody save himself would be able to get down it. Still, Shane had to try.

Motioning to his group, rather than speaking, Shane indicated that they were to head down the alleyway to get to the back of the café, not thinking about what was down there. It seemed empty, so he began to hurry as the entire group was enclosed between the café and the other building, his light bobbing up and down as he broke into a run. Shane was nervous being in such a contained area; he felt that if they were going to attack, it would be in a place where they could strike them with very little chance of escape.

And he was right.

Before he was even halfway down the alleyway, Shane felt something on the back of his neck: one single water droplet. It didn't sting, but he knew that within seconds there would be a rain cloud…and the Draug would attack.

"ABORT!" he shouted, continuing to run in the same direction, feeling he had a better chance running forwards than wasting time turning. "GET OUT! RUN AWAY—THEY'RE HERE!"

The rain began to pelt down at this point, going from completely dry to heavy sheets of rain within half a second, drenching Shane to the core—and accompanying it was the painful stings of the Draug, here to attack.

Here to kill.

Shane began to fire his gun wildly, realising that it was pointless; he couldn't shoot water, and the flame thrower he had in his bag would only cause the Draug to turn into mist, which would then proceed to sting him just as easily. He couldn't defeat them. It was in this moment that he realised it wasn't a mission Oliver had sent him on; he had been sent here so that he _would_ die—whereas he had originally thought he would have the chance to live, it had never existed. He was never going to leave this mission; it was murder, plain and simple, though non-direct. Oliver had deliberately sent him here, able to lie later and say that he had died fighting the Draug, when in reality, there was no way to defeat them.

Morganville was dying, and there was nothing they could do. Amelie wouldn't be able to save them, of that Shane was certain. The only way that anyone would survive was if they ran like hell out of the town—and even then, the Draug would most likely follow.

Staggering, Shane dropped his weapon as the stings began to burrow their way under his clothes, pricking every part of his body. He hurt all over, and the noises from around him indicated that the majority of the others had been caught by the rain that had fallen over him, and they were facing the same fate as he was.

Somehow, Shane managed to reach the end of the alleyway, the rain continuing to pour over him, and he fell into the locked gate; he had been right, Oliver had locked it. It didn't make a difference now, as he leaned against it, feeling his heartbeat increasing and increasing to the point that he felt himself hyperventilating, just to try and pump enough oxygen around his body.

He managed to fight the control of the Draug, avoiding them taking control of his mind, and he didn't know if that that was a good idea; they could have made him think that he was going into a nice world, when in fact he was dying, whereas now, he was aware of every prick into his skin, aware that if he didn't die of drowning, it would be heart failure—and soon. They were humans, not the Draug's intended victims.

They were just an appetiser.

"I…love…Claire," he managed to mutter, after what seemed like hours of being stung, his voice barely audible to his own ears. It was getting harder and harder to breathe, and as he leaned against the gate, he thought that he saw his life flashing before his eyes: Morganville, his parents, his sister, everything that he experienced before the fire…and, for the briefest second, Claire. Then it was back to fighting, to a stake being in his hand and his eyes focused on his target—in his very final moments, he had the desire to fight in his mind.

It proved to him one thing: he and Claire were never going to be together forever, and that his true love in life was fighting, especially against vampires.

And with that, his heart gave in; he had three seconds of pure panic, of not being able to breathe and the only sensation being complete and utter pain, before his eyes shut and he lost consciousness—for good.

Shane Collins was dead…and on the other side of town, his now ex-girlfriend was eating a toasted sandwich.

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I'll write the first reviewer a oneshot, so yes,please do review!


	14. Weapons

_Chapter 14:_

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_Claire's POV:_

Having made her sandwich, Claire sat down on the sofa to eat it, flicking through one of the history books Myrnin possessed (and looked so slapdashly put together that she presumed he had created it) in the errant hope that the writer may have recorded something about the Draug. It was possible, she thought, because the book didn't document history from a human perspective (the only human battles or events which were included were so because they had significance with regards to vampires) and had things which she had never heard of before within it…the writer was a vampire, that much was certain, so she presumed that any encounter with their natural enemy would have been documented.

Turning pages more furiously as she passed vampire wars—none of which were very interesting as the majority of the names she didn't recognise—Claire's attention was focused on the book, her eyes skim-reading as she waited to read the one word which would grasp her attention: Draug.

"Careful with the book!" she heard Myrnin shout across, but she ignored him; he was still moody about how she had interrupted his fight, and was doing things to Amelie that made no sense to her. Claire would certainly be staying with the book and sandwich she had.

"Like you really care," she muttered, knowing he could hear, yet there was no reply. So Claire focused back on the book, flipping pages of yellowed paper which did look as though it would be interesting to read—if she had the time. At that moment, dissecting the wars between John the Great and Alice de Lapié wouldn't exactly help them defeat their enemy, would it?

After another five minutes, however, Claire found something. It was a small addition to the book, scrawled in a hand that definitely reminded Claire of Myrnin's handwriting, and it what it said scared her:

_Draug attack—south of France, they found us. 15 of our kind dead in only four days, and countless humans; I came up with the only way to wound Magnus: trap him in a circle of fire complete with alchemy signs…temporary solution. He will not be trapped for eternity._

_Amelie plans to move away now and never return to France, for fear that Magnus will find her—he thinks that she trapped him, when in fact, she knew nothing about it. Draug WILL return—when is the only question. Still, for now, the vampire race is safe…and only myself, Amelie and three others are aware of their existence._

Gasping, Claire let the book slide to the floor with a clatter, some of the pages falling out as it connected with the concrete ground. Yet she didn't care; she had just found a way to at least immobilise the Draug before they were able to defeat them—that was the only issue now.

She didn't expect to see Myrnin before her as she looked up, and instinctively, Claire leaned back, gasping as she did so; he was angry, his eyes flashing red as he bent over to pick up the book.

"What did I say," he growled, "about being careful with this book?" He pushed the pieces of paper which had fallen out of the book when it fell back in, taking deep (unnecessary) breaths as he stood there.

"You don't understand," Claire whispered, still cowering away from Myrnin. She was scared of him; he had never acted like this before, not with her at least. The stress of their efforts to save Amelie and attempt to defeat the Draug at the same time was changing him, and it wasn't a good change. "In there…you've written about the Draug, Myrnin, written how you defeated them—or at least weakened them—before, in France. You weakened them—do you not remember?" Claire was puzzled by the expression on Myrnin's face; it was as though he didn't recognise what she was telling him. Whilst she didn't expect him to remember everything he had done throughout his long, long existence, she would have presumed that he would recall something about his kind's lifelong enemy, the enemy which had returned to kill them again.

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about," he snapped at her, taking steps away from her, the book still clutched in his hands. "Stop being a nuisance and just sit there until I have a need for you," he continued, nothing like his usual self.

Infuriated and not caring about what he could do to her, Claire stood up, anger suddenly blazing through her; what had been fear had been replaced with intense fury because of the way that he was treating her. "Let me make this clear," she said, her voice like daggers, it was that sharp. "If you do not give me that book back and carry on treating me like I'm some sort of rubbish, then I'm going through that portal over there and giving my assistance to Oliver. If he's not in a childish mood like you—which I doubt, since it's _Oliver_—he'll be able to do a lot more than you are."

She knew that she was taking a risk with talking to Myrnin like that, but that was part of the reason she did it; she was fed up of 'taking risks' just because he was a vampire who couldn't control his temper. All Claire wanted was to be able to treat Myrnin as though he was a normal boss, and that would require him keeping his temper—and insanity—as under control as possible.

It took a while—almost three minutes—for the murderous glint to fade from Myrnin's eyes, and although she was scared stiff, Claire didn't break eye contact with him. She didn't dare; she wanted to prove her point. In fact, it took Sam yelling, "are you going to help Amelie or not?" to get Myrnin to look away from Claire.

"I…I'm sorry," he muttered to Claire, taking a step closer to her as he handed the book towards where she stood. As their eyes met once more, Claire saw that they were back to their usual friendly, kind selves, though with more than a hint of shame within them. "I don't know what came over me—you may leave if you wish, yet if not…feel free to read. And if there is something in there about the Draug…well, I very much doubt that it is relevant, yet if you have any interesting ideas of how to develop it, do as you please. I must return to Amelie." His voice was hollow, distant, and Claire knew that his attention was on the other side of the laboratory, with their Founder.

She nodded, taking the book from Myrnin's hands and settling herself down on the sofa once more. There was a pad and pen just to her right hand side, and Claire quickly jotted down the general idea that the piece in the book had, and began to flick through, looking for more mentions of their enemy…

She just hoped it would be enough.

_Amelie's POV:_

She felt…strange.

That was the best word to describe the way that she felt; ever since she had been bitten by Magnus, it seemed as though she was floating, disconnected from the rest of the world and life—she could hear and feel, yet she didn't feel as though she was in her body. When Myrnin had commented that there were no brainwaves, Amelie knew that it was merely a confirmation of how she considered herself not to be attached to her body.

As soon as the discussion about what she wanted most had arisen, she knew that it was Sam; he was the only thing that she wanted. All she had done for months was crave his touch, and Amelie had thought herself lost forever at that point—Myrnin had told her that it was fundamentally impossible to bring back someone from the dead without giving up the lives of others, both a human and that of an Elder vampire…but evidently, he had lied to her. How he had managed to bring Sam back without killing an Elder vampire (as Oliver was very much alive, as was Myrnin, and she was recovering) was something that she would have to ask him…but later.

She was so very tired still, even as the blood flowed into her body, and Amelie ached to open her eyes to look into Sam's eyes, to even be able to tighten her hand against his to show that she _was_ there with him, that he hadn't been brought back just to witness the death of his love, as she had him. The minutes that ticked brought with them more strength for her, until she was fairly certain that she could open her eyes more than a fraction—but she didn't.

She was scared.

It had been so, so long since she had seen him last that Amelie almost felt as though she wasn't what she was before—well, she knew that, but she thought that she wasn't worthy of Sam, even less than she was before. It terrified her to think that Sam was expecting this woman when, in fact, she was that much less than she had been when he had last walked the Earth. She was nothing, Amelie felt, nothing that was worthy of someone as pure as Sam, at least.

"Amelie?" Sam's lips were at her ear, and the suddenness of his movement made Amelie realise that she wasn't focusing on any of her senses. All she was absorbed by was his hand around hers, yet as he spoke, she became aware of other things: the humming of a machine or two, Myrnin pacing, the girl sitting eating and flicking pages…the smell of earth and blood and everything that Amelie had come to associate with Myrnin's laboratory. And she could feel something digging into her back, some sort of book, she presumed, and it wasn't comfortable.

Unable to resist opening her eyes as Sam spoke, Amelie did so, the world shockingly dim and blurred compared to Sam; he shone to her, was brighter than he had ever been before, and she knew it was probably just because she hadn't seen him in so long, but he was even more handsome than he had been before.

"Samuel," she breathed his name, unable to say Sam still even though she could think it, and as she spoke, Amelie tightened her hand around his. She still felt extremely weak, weak enough that she wouldn't be able to move for another few minutes, and her head ached, but she was alive; she had survived the Draug.

And it was all thanks to Sam.

As soon as she spoke, Sam's face stretched out into a smile that shone brighter than even the sun could, and he leaned closer to her body. "I love you," he murmured, before closing the last few inches to press his lips to hers.

It was a gentle kiss, yet Amelie could feel herself growing excited by it, and knew that if her heart still beat, it would be beating faster than ever before at this point.

"Now, now, that's enough," Myrnin commented, leaning over from the other side of the sofa to intrude on her and Sam's personal space. "I'm afraid to break up the, ah, _touching_ reunion, but I would like to run some tests…"

Amelie rolled her eyes, her only response to Myrnin's request as Sam leaned back, so that their only connection was their intertwined hands. Myrnin wasn't going to break them apart now, not even if he needed her right arm for any reason.

"Why is there something under my body?" she asked, her voice still quiet though not for a lack of attempting to increase the volume of her voice. "Did you not think to clear the sofa for me, Myrnin, or am I merely a patient to you?"

Myrnin seemed far too happy as he took Amelie's left arm and dug a needle into it to draw up some blood; Amelie personally saw no purpose in it, given that the blood was firstly not hers and secondly, had only been in her body for mere minutes so couldn't have been impacted by her system—or so she thought. "Your presence was most sorely missed," Myrnin told her as she tried to look away from the needle—she had never been a fan of needles or blood being drawn, even though she was a vampire.

"Was it?" she asked, sighing. "I would have thought that Oliver would relish taking control of my town and that you would enjoy having some freedom to do as you pleased to destroy our enemy, damning the state of my town in the process." Her voice was cool as she spoke, yet once again, not as intense as she wanted. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that her attention was in part taken by Sam, or perhaps merely to do with her strength—Amelie just didn't really care.

Shaking his head exuberantly, Myrnin removed the needle from her arm and disappeared across the laboratory so that he was no longer in her eyesight. "On the contrary, dear Amelie, I didn't dare to act without your presence for fear that I, ah, damaged something that you hold dear to your heart."

Amelie ignored him for a few moments as she turned to Sam and gave him a look, one that she knew passed on her desire to sit up; lying down made her feel like an invalid, someone who was weak and unable to recover, and whilst sitting slumped was only marginally better, at least she would be able to stand up easier when the time came. She only replied to Myrnin once Sam had helped her to an upright position, ignoring the pain that shot through her as she did so, "you have always been cowardly, Myrnin. But never fear: I am back."

Leaning her head against Sam's shoulder, Amelie didn't care if it showed weakness; it also showed one of her greatest strengths: Sam. He had brought her strength for fifty years, an additional source which had helped her battle the disease for that time, and had helped her to avoid succumbing as Myrnin had; she hoped that life would increase what he gave her.

"I love you," she murmured against his shoulder, ignoring the comments Myrnin was making under his breath about them as he analysed her blood. What he was looking for, she had absolutely no idea, yet she just hoped that it was good news; if she…if she wasn't healed properly, if she wasn't going to be the same again, she didn't know what she would do. Not being strong—or even a vampire—would be the worst scenario, because to be weak would lead to her death, and not being a vampire would mean she was either a hybrid of some sort between Draug and vampires, or she was still a Draug.

And that would result in her termination almost immediately.

On the other side of the laboratory, Amelie could hear Claire was tapping her pen against the notepad; she was confused about something. "What is it, Claire?" Amelie said as loudly as she could manage, feeling the strain against her throat as she spoke. It was strange, abnormal, and if she was a scientist, she would describe the feeling as though every cell in her body was changing—it wasn't entirely painful, but it wasn't comfortable, either.

Claire moved hastily across the laboratory to be standing merely three or four metres away from Amelie and Sam. It was clear that she didn't want to come any closer—but if Amelie had had the strength to hunt her, the distance wouldn't have been an issue—and that made Amelie smile: the human was scared of her, finally.

"I…I found something that Myrnin wrote the last time you confronted the Draug," Claire said hastily, turning her pad to face Amelie.

Amelie could read the words Claire had written easily, and she frowned; she certainly didn't remember what Myrnin had done to weaken their enemy when they had confronted them in France, only that when he returned, Myrnin seemed to be insanely manic and didn't say anything other than, "it's done." He had refused to tell her, citing that he couldn't remember what he did…but evidently he had written it down.

"Is that what you did, Myrnin?" she asked Myrnin, her voice louder and clearer than before; it was a physical manifestation of how her strength was returning to her.

The scientist flashed across the laboratory to be standing before her suddenly, his gaze upon her. "I do not recall," he admitted, his tone sheepish. "I honestly cannot remember that night, Amelie, save for…save for standing there with Magnus weakened beyond belief. I must have been in one of my moods, must have written it down later that evening, because I truly can say that I have never seen that passage before—not in my sane mind, at least."

Amelie nodded slowly, shifting her weight so that she was sitting more formally than she had been before. She used Sam's arm for support to do this, gripping him tightly; he was her rock, her protector, her guide in the blackness to save her. "In that case…do you think that you could make a replica of that, Myrnin, though one hundred times more fierce a trap? To make it so that the ring of fire is so intense that to penetrate it would be to burn instantly, no matter what you are, to ensure that the alchemy symbols prevent him from turning into mist or reappearing elsewhere…

"Can you make a weapon that is so strong, so detrimental to Magnus, that he will be destroyed—and this time, forever?"

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I'll write the first reviewer a oneshot or something. If I get 10 reviews (not going to happen), I'll update immediately


	15. Sacrifices

I don't own anything

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_Chapter 15:_

_Claire's POV:_

Standing there before Amelie was strange. It wasn't that she was in Myrnin's laboratory, but more the fact that she had been nearly lost to them forever…and yet she was still giving orders.

Something about her was different. Claire knew that she must be tired and hurting, but that wasn't what seemed odd about the Founder; it was almost as though feeling had seeped into her expression and it was refusing to ever leave again. It made Amelie seem more human, more susceptible to danger…and yet more vicious and complete a warrior than ever before. It was, in a word, intriguing.

"I certainly can make a stronger weapon if that is what you desire, my dear," Myrnin replied to Amelie's request of him, his voice strangely absent from the current location. Claire knew that he was thinking through the logistics of what he was to do, and working out just how it could be done. "It will take time, naturally, but—"

"We do not _have_ time!" Amelie hissed, her eyes suddenly flashing red. Claire involuntarily took a step backwards, her fear levels shooting through the roof at the fact the returned-from-the-nearly-dead vampire was angered. "Do not be stupid, child, I have no patience for your melodramatic actions today," was directed towards Claire before Amelie returned her attention to Myrnin, "you _will_ complete something by the end of this evening, or I fear that his grip will be too tight upon my town to be removed even by you. It will reach the stage where he does not require water to find us, and he will not fall for our tricks. It must be done—now."

There was something about her tone of voice that made Claire feel almost compelled to help Myrnin, and one look at the expressions on Amelie's and Myrnin's faces made it clear to Claire that she was attempting to force her will upon him. He was resisting as well as he could, lasting much longer than Claire thought anyone would be able to last when faced with Amelie's wrath, but finally, he conceded.

"There will be a price to pay for this," he told Amelie, but Claire wasn't sure whether or not he was being serious.

Amelie's eyebrows rose slightly and she exchanged a glance with Sam before she answered. "Pray tell what this price will be for this magnification of your alchemy powers, Myrnin."

He sighed slightly, but Claire could see from looking into his eyes that he was deathly serious—he was fearful and defiant at the same time, and that was a combination which worried Claire.

"The last time I trapped our enemy, it took raising the dead," he told Amelie. "This time, we have already done that…it will lead to sending someone in Sam's place—and this person will never be allowed to be brought back."

The price didn't seem that high to Claire, and that sent fear through her once more; she wasn't worried about the lost of one person's life, not if it meant that Magnus was removed forever. And if the cost didn't seem too great to her, it would be nothing to a woman who had seen the death of many billions of people through her long, long life.

"Set about your work at once," Amelie said, confirming Claire's belief. "Do not stop until you have achieved your aim."

Claire had the feeling from Myrnin's expression that there was another clause to this price…he just wasn't telling anyone what it was.

She was determined to find out.

_~x~_

For the following three hours, Claire was in a sort of limbo. She was too scared of Amelie (who wouldn't be scared of someone who had fought off the Draug?) to spend time near her, even though she wanted to talk to Sam and see how he was doing, and yet she knew nowhere near enough about the alchemical symbols Myrnin was finding in order to help him. So instead, she busied herself with finding some sort of magnetic device to, if they drew the symbols on some metal, magnify their intensity and cause the flames to become impenetrable to anyone, human or otherwise. To think that, human or otherwise, still made Claire smile ever so slightly; she had lived in a town with vampires for almost two years and yet she still couldn't wrap her head around the fact that there were things other than humans…other than vampires as well, it now turned out to be.

Next thing she'd be told that fairies exist and that the cakes she's been eating for the past eighteen years, almost, have been drugging her to believe that fairies aren't on this planet. That's how unrealistic her life had gotten.

"Claire!" Myrnin's voice was excited as he called her over to him, and Claire scurried over as fast as she could, remembering to pick up the pen and pad so she could ask him what the catch was on the death which had to occur in order for Magnus to be killed.

"What is it?" she asked as she approached him, her eyes immediately turning their gaze to one of the alchemist's symbols on the a3 paper in front of her. There were at least ten different ones, and one glance at the floor told her that there had been more than one hundred attempts to draw the symbols; evidently even the ancient alchemist Myrnin needed practise in drawing the runes.

He frowned slightly at the pad and pen in her hand, but before he spoke, Claire shook her head. "I need your help in operating the engraving machine," he said, causing Claire to frown slightly—he had never let her use it before.

"Ok," she sighed, setting the pad down on the table. She immediately began to write a message to Myrnin, saying, _what's the catch_?

Claire knew that he saw it—his eyes flitted over it and away again within a second, but she knew that he read it before he looked away—but Myrnin made no attempt to write a response back. Evidently, he was trying to avoid telling her.

On the other side of the room, there was silence—or at least there was to Claire's ears—and yet Claire knew that if she started to discuss what Myrnin wasn't telling her, the attention of the Founder would be on them. And with Myrnin's reluctance to share this information, Claire knew that it was bad.

When she continually tapped on the piece of paper and refused to move across to aid Myrnin with starting the machine, he rolled his eyes and approached her at his fastest speed. Involuntarily, she flinched away, and Myrnin took the pen from her hand as she did so, scrawling something on the piece of paper:

_I don't have the faintest idea what you're talking about._

Claire rolled her eyes as Myrnin moved away back to the machine, but she didn't write anything down in response, deciding instead to help with the machine first. She slowly turned the handle that Myrnin told her to move, using the time facing him to stare into his face to let him know that she wasn't joking and that she wasn't accepting his answer. There was no response from him other than to look away, something which confirmed in Claire's mind the fact that there was something that he was hiding—not that she needed the proof.

"Hand me the drawing over there, Claire," Myrnin ordered Claire, and she fetched the required drawing willingly, taking the opportunity to grab the pen and pad to move to a more opportune location. "Thank you, now can I have that one?" he asked, and Claire realised that he knew she was about to write something and so therefore was trying to avoid it.

"One minute," she said quietly, ignoring his pointed looks of _don't write anything_ as she uncapped the pen.

_Don't kid me, Myrnin, I know that there's a catch to the fact that we need to kill someone to send Magnus to the grave. So tell me what it is, or I'll tell Amelie that you're not telling her something—and let me tell you that SHE'LL make sure that you tell the truth._

The expression on Myrnin's face was, if the situation was less serious, amusing enough to make Claire laugh. Right now though, it merely confirmed that what she was forcing him to tell her was something she did not want to know.

In order to continue the cover of the secret discussion, Claire reached out and grabbed the thing that Myrnin had requested, slipping it into his left hand; the other was busy picking up the pen and scrawling—it was barely legible to Claire and she had had over a year of deciphering his notes—a response to Claire's threat.

_If I tell you, it will break you apart. You don't want to know_.

Claire punched Myrnin's arm as hard as she could, immediately wincing afterwards. She knew it wouldn't hurt him in the slightest, and would most likely rouse the attention of the other two vampires in the room, but she didn't care; she was irritated with Myrnin attempting to avoid telling her what the catch was. It did do what she wanted it to, and make Myrnin look at her with a shocked (and rather hurt) expression upon his face, which Claire hoped would mean he would give in and tell her everything she wanted to know.

_Tell me. Or Amelie WILL know there's something going on._

She was fed up with the avoiding the question, skirting around the subject—it hadn't gone on very long compared to normal, but in this situation, when all their lives were at stake, this was more than she wanted.

Sighing, Myrnin took the pen once more and began to explain what was going on, saying at the same time, "Claire, please go and set that machine to seven hundred degrees Fahrenheit, and ensure that the lid is closed. Then, when the display says that the temperature has been reached, place a piece of metal inside—use gloves, I don't want you to be burned—and then replace the lid."

Claire guessed that the explanation would take a long time to be written, and so went about doing what Myrnin wanted. Before the machine had even reached the mentioned temperature, however, he was back by her side, handing her the notepad, which was covered in his writing.

_It was never something I wanted to happen._

_Sam's return has meant that there must be a death—and relatively quickly—of another in the world of the living, otherwise the balance between the worlds will go out of kilter and all sorts of bad things will occur._

_I have always told Amelie that it must be the life of an Elder vampire which brings someone back from the dead, which isn't strictly true; only our blood is required, the life can be any living person. I merely never told her because if she knew that she could bring him back, other people would demand their loved ones back and it would get very complicated. It happened under Bishop._

_There is a slight catch with the death of someone in order to send the Draug to their deaths within the fire; it must be a vampire. That narrows down the possibilities greatly anyway. But it must either be an Elder vampire—myself, Amelie or Oliver—or…or the relative of the one brought back from the dead. To trap the Draug before, I believe I used Amelie's blood, for we were not deemed Elder vampires back then, but this time…this time, there are only five possible candidates._

He didn't say who they were.

But Claire knew.

She looked with horror first at Myrnin and then towards where Sam and Amelie sat, unaware of the fact that one of their number would soon be gone—forever. It wouldn't be Oliver, she guessed; he wouldn't give his life for Amelie now, even if he would have been willing before (which she doubted).

It wouldn't be her because she wasn't a vampire and she wasn't related to Sam anyway.

It wouldn't be Amelie, she doubted.

Amelie wouldn't _let_ it be Myrnin, the man she needed to run the town amongst other things.

"No," Claire whispered, unable to believe the conclusion she had come to. Myrnin merely nodded his head, however, having figured out where she was up to.

To rid the town of the Draug, they had two possible candidates for the job: Sam, the man they had just fought to save, or a relative of his.

It was either Sam or Michael who they would be sending to their grave—and this time, it would be permanently.

* * *

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	16. Developments

_Chapter 16:_

_Claire's POV:_

Claire didn't want to believe the choice they had—Sam or Michael—and she was desperate for there to be a third option, but the look on Myrnin's face made her certain that this was the only way. He knew as well as she did that the other three potential sacrifices would not be made, so it would come down to whether the grandfather or the grandson sacrificed their self to protect the other. The difference with this sacrifice to Sam's at Bishop's hands the year before was the permanent nature of the death; Myrnin had written that it was impossible to bring the person back—and she believed him. Whilst he had kept it a secret that he could bring Sam back, Claire knew that in this situation, he would have done everything plausibly possible to ensure that nobody had to die.

But someone would have to. In order to take the Draug to their death permanently, someone would have to go with them…and already, Claire had an inkling about who it would be. She was certain that one wouldn't take no for an answer…and that they would never be seen again, once that decision was made.

"What are you two doing?" Amelie called over, causing Claire to jolt out of the semi-reverie she had slipped into whilst analysing the situation. "No noise or movement makes me _very_ anxious, Myrnin, so would you like to explain what you are doing?"

Myrnin very deliberately rolled his eyes, making gestures with his hands about Amelie which, under normal circumstances, would have caused Claire to laugh; today, she barely raised a smile at them. "Coming, my lady," he said slowly, before pressing a finger to his lips as he looked back into Claire's face.

She knew that he knew that she wanted to fall into pieces about the decision that needed to be made, and that his rebuke was intended to stop her doing that—for now, at least. Claire wouldn't be able to stop herself forever…but they could at least get themselves into a situation which allowed someone else to make the decision, which would be much better, Claire thought. She knew for sure that _she_ couldn't make the decision about who to send to their eternal grave; she definitely didn't want that sort of power…or the horror of her decision hanging over her for the rest of her life.

As Myrnin explained to Amelie what he was doing, Claire shook herself to get as much of the emotion out of her body as possible, before resuming work upon the task Myrnin had set her before. She just had to make sure that the system didn't overheat—which was a possibility, given it was set to 700 Fahrenheit and they had no ventilation system in operation—which wasn't too hard, she hoped. Claire didn't think that she had the mental capacity to concentrate wholly on the system as well as the knowledge she had just gained.

Within a few minutes, the metal within the heated furnace was bubbling slightly, something which worried Claire. A clanging noise followed about ten seconds later, which had Myrnin darting across the laboratory and pushing Claire out of the way without a word's apology.

"Dammit!" Myrnin growled to himself, flicking switches on the machine that Claire noticed but didn't dare to touch for fear of doing something wrong. "Claire, go into the freezer and fetch me the last of the ice in there—_now_!"

She did as he told her, running as fast as she could across the laboratory to the tiny kitchenette and digging out the ice Myrnin wanted. It was good for a bit of hectic mayhem given that Myrnin never managed to complete an experiment well without it, and she was on edge as she returned to him, awaiting her next instruction.

There were a _lot_ to come.

_~x~_

Over the next hour, Claire half wished that the machine had worked properly and that the alchemical symbols had been burnt onto the metal in the design they were meant to, because it would have saved her a _lot_ of running. Between the machine making a noise and the time she finally got to sit down, Claire had sawn wood (for a purpose she still didn't know) had drawn out the symbols for gold and silver fifty times, and had gathered things from the other side of the laboratory, some of which were heavier than herself, she hazarded a guess at. Still, neither Sam nor Amelie offered their assistance, and Myrnin was as blissfully unaware to Claire's physical deficiencies as he always was, so that when she had to drop into a chair for fear of losing consciousness, he looked surprised.

"You haven't done much!" he told her, shocked that she was sitting down.

"I've been running around for an hour as well as doing everything else you want me to do!" she retorted, panting for breath as she did so. "Give me a few minutes at _least_ or you won't need to worry about me any longer—I'll be _dead_ from exhaustion."

Myrnin rolled his eyes and muttered something about Claire being melodramatic, but she deliberately ignored him. It wasn't worth getting into an argument over, particularly with Amelie in the room; she would probably insist that Claire did something equally horrible as running—

"Are you even _listening_, Claire?" Amelie snapped, her head suddenly visible over the sofa, and Claire jumped. Evidently the Founder had been speaking and she had missed every word whilst she was in her own little world.

"Um, sorry I missed what you said?" Claire replied hesitantly, twisting her fingers together as she spoke. "Could you maybe repeat it?"

The look on Amelie's face was one of pure irritation, but she complied with Claire's wish. "Since you're not currently fit to run around and aid Myrnin as well as you ought to be able to, you ought to see whether Oliver needs any help…and you should see that your…friends are quite well, also." Amelie sounded almost concerned about Claire's friends as she spoke, which surprised Claire.

It wasn't enough to rouse her from her sudden feelings of horror and betrayal, though; through the past day or so, Claire had barely thought about her friends, save for when Shane suddenly appeared with Oliver, and she hadn't attempted to contact them once. Sure she had a decent excuse—they were saving the Founder, after all—but she hadn't…she hadn't even tried to ring Michael and Eve _once_, let alone someone who was supposed to be her boyfriend. They could be dead for all she knew—and perhaps they were. Perhaps Amelie could sense something that Claire couldn't (there was the connection between her and Michael, after all) and that was why she was sending Claire back; a kindness and a berating act at the same time.

"I'll…yes, sure, I can do that," Claire muttered, staggering to her feet and almost falling over in her haste to leave for the Elders' Council building. "Myrnin? When do you want me back?"

She hesitated for a moment as Myrnin and Amelie had an unspoken conversation, wondering what on earth they could be discussing in such a manner, and she wasn't reassured by the smile that Myrnin flashed her. "Just…come back when you're ready," he replied, and that certainly didn't calm her down either; in situations like this, Myrnin was notoriously regulated in his actions, and did not like discrepancies in the plan. It was an extraordinary contrast to his usual self. "Don't let Oliver boss you around, he isn't in charge."

"No," Amelie interrupted, her gaze steely when Claire met it. "I am in charge, after all; if he has any issues with that, tell him to come here. I want to have a word with him about his battle plan, after all."

Claire gulped under Amelie's intense gaze and nodded, reaching behind her for the handle to the portal door rather than turning away. There was something feral in Amelie's eyes that scared Claire, as though if she turned her back, something would attack her. It wasn't logical, but it still affected Claire.

She disappeared through the portal door, hearing the familiar noise of Oliver yelling at someone as she did, shutting the door as quickly as possible when she was through.

Claire had escaped—but into what?

_~x~_

It took her almost ten minutes to find the man she was looking for: Oliver. Out of everyone in this place—and there were a lot of people—Claire didn't trust anyone more than Oliver to tell her the truth about what was happening. Whilst she didn't particularly like trusting Oliver, it was better than being in the dark or being told some secondhand information that was no longer true or relevant to the current situation. She knew that he would be hurt and angry about what had happened in the laboratory and how he was deliberately kept out of the loop about how they were planning on saving Amelie, which was understandable. If the same situation had occurred and she was in Oliver's place, she would have been devastated that she wasn't trusted enough to know; it wouldn't just be the fact that she was surplus to the requirements of the other person, but more the fact that she was considered irrelevant to the proceedings.

When Claire found Oliver, he was in the centre of a busy room, full of people moving weapons from one side to the other. And, unsurprisingly, he was giving orders. Claire was certain that the only time he was ever truly happy was when he got the chance to boss other people about; it was something she had seen him do time and time again when they were under threat, and it seemed as though he was in his element.

"Oliver," she said hesitantly as she approached him, wincing internally when his attention focused on her. The only emotion in his eyes was anger, and there was something about him that made him seem even less human than he usually did; whatever spark of humanity was left in him was doused in the current situation (or due to what he had seen) and it sent waves of fear spreading through Claire. "I…I need a word."

Oliver immediately turned away and began to issue orders to one of the men standing behind him so quickly that Claire couldn't hear him. Then he moved onto the next person beside him, and the next, until Claire got the feeling that he was deliberately ignoring her; he didn't want to talk to her, and she could understand that.

A wave of tiredness swept over Claire at this point, and she felt as though if she didn't sit down soon, she would fall to the floor; with the scores of vampires in here, it wasn't probably the best idea to be lying on the floor with veins exposed, an easy cherry for the picking. Therefore, she figured that since Oliver now knew she was here and that she wanted to speak to him, she could disappear and he would find her later; she wasn't leaving without speaking to him, after all.

However, just as Claire began to walk away from Oliver, his cool fingers closed around her arm and pulled her none too gently back around to face him. "If you have the audacity to interrupt someone when they are busy, at least have the manners to wait around until they have the chance to speak to you," he said to her quietly, and Claire felt another rush of fear spread through her. His tone wasn't what she was geared up for—harsh, angry and dangerous, as far as a voice could be dangerous—but rather…empty. That was the best word she could think of to fit how Oliver was speaking; it wasn't anything like he normally spoke, even when he had pretended to be human, and it made Claire pretty damn certain that no matter what front he put on about how the Amelie-Sam thing had affected him, he was lying.

"I, uh, sorry, I thought you were busy," Claire replied, stumbling over her words slightly. "Can I talk to you?"

Oliver rolled his eyes, and a touch of his usual sarcastic self shone through. "I think you'll find that what we are currently having is called a _conversation_; this is when two people are talking."

"Sorry," Claire mumbled, and mentally winced; she didn't want to apologise again. "I…I wanted to know how my friends are. Please, Oliver, I know you don't like me or my friends, but I just want to know that they're ok."

The elderly looking vampire released Claire's arm slowly, a slight smile spreading onto his lips. "Where on earth did you get the idea that I don't like you, Claire?" he asked, and Claire was distracted enough by the change in subject to not notice that he didn't answer her question. "When have I ever expressed a dislike of you? Yes, I have tried to kill you—_once_, and it was a long time ago now—and I don't always agree with what you do…but, though it pains me to admit it, I can see you as an ally. I am not an idiot, Claire; I know that to win, you have to take allies you perhaps wouldn't consider in normal circumstances."

Whilst Claire was flattered by this point, and even the fact that Oliver wasn't ripping her head off because of what had happened earlier on, she remembered why she was there. "And my friends?"

Oliver shrugged slightly. "You have more to tell me in this message, I am certain; Amelie wouldn't allow you to come here just for your friends." The look on Oliver's face suddenly turned to one of a twisted amusement; it wasn't amusement _at_ Claire but more at Amelie's action, Claire was sure. "You didn't think that she cared about you enough to let you come here and find out about your friends, did you, Claire? Oh good lord, someone falls unconscious for _one day_ and you've already forgotten how they act!"

It was as though she was being berated in class by a strict teacher; Claire's face burned ever so slightly as she realised she had been taken in by Amelie within merely a few words. "She asked that you go see her because she wants to discuss your battle plan or something, I didn't really listen once she said that I could come see my friends. Now that I've told you that, _where are my friends_?" Desperation began to rise in Claire's voice; she was growing less and less certain that they were ok with every second that passed, especially with the way that Oliver seemed to be going to any length to avoid telling her.

Or, Claire thought suddenly, it was Oliver merely messing with her mind; perhaps he did blame her for what had happened with Amelie after all, and he was using this opportunity to withhold information from _her_, just as she had done with him earlier on in the day (or perhaps it was yesterday; things were moving at such a fast pace that Claire had forgotten when one day turned to another).

Oliver sighed, and it was this noise that made Claire certain that she was being paranoid by considering that he may be deliberately withholding information. "You don't want to know," he began, but Claire wasn't going to settle for that—and Oliver knew it. "Fine, though you cannot complain at what I am going to tell you, given that I have warned you that it is perhaps news saved until you are emotionally ready to deal with it."

Nodding impatiently, Claire waited for the news.

"Ms Rosser is currently in the hospital area of this building, being treated for an apparent gunshot to the thigh; it seems that one of her fellow humans decided that attacking the rest of the humans was a clever idea. She should make a full recovery…provided we all survive." The pause made Claire certain that worse news was to come. "Michael Glass is rounding up survivors on the other side of Morganville; he took an armoured truck which, provided he doesn't do anything stupid, is secure enough for the enemy to be kept out. This is, of course, a potential waste of time given how prone the boy is to making stupid, rash decisions." This had something to do with the marriage proposal, Claire thought.

Oliver hadn't mentioned the person Claire was most interested in, however, and she was about an inch from the end of her tether. "Shane?" she pressed when it became clear that Oliver had stopped talking and wasn't going to mention him willingly.

"The Collins boy was killed in action near Common Grounds; he made a foolish decision to attempt to clear the alleyway next to it, and was attacked. Three of the other members of his party made it back safely and they informed us that…that there was no hope for him." Oliver's tone was matter of fact and blunt, not that Claire would have expected any sympathy from him about _Shane_…but it still hurt.

At first, her brain refused to process the information, refused to believe that Shane had died and she hadn't even known about it—surely, as his girlfriend, she should have _realised_ that something had happened? She should have felt a part of her disappear, as happens on films, but she hadn't felt anything but exhaustion in the past few hours—well, that and elation.

"Claire," Oliver said quietly, and Claire started. Evidently, she had spaced out. "Your phone has been ringing for the past five minutes; are you not going to answer it?"

Shaking her head, Claire stared defiantly at the wall and attempted to force herself not to cry. It was hard—her eyeballs burned with the effort when all her head wanted her to do was to curl up on the floor and cry—but she managed it. She didn't want to cry, not here, not where she was surrounded by strangers; she would save her devastation for later, when all of this was over.

This was a war—and the war didn't stop for any casualty, no matter how important they were.

"Will you at least turn the phone off?" Oliver asked, and once again, Claire shook her head. She could barely hear the noise of the ringing, though in her head she knew that it was set to a loud volume; it just didn't process through her ears. "In that case…" Oliver reached into Claire's pocket and grabbed the phone, answering it before it rang off.

The conversation was short, but Claire didn't catch any of it. Her mind was attempting to wrap itself around the fact that Shane was_ dead_, never coming back—and she couldn't even remember her last words to him. She couldn't remember the last time she kissed him, the last time she said she loved him, the last time she did anything with him other than disappoint him: that was stuck in her mind quite clearly.

"Right, we're going," Oliver growled, grabbing ahold of Claire's arm once more as he flipped the phone over to cut off the call. He didn't even bother attempting to hand it to Claire; as soon as he touched her, she half collapsed, and the only reason she was still standing was because of his grip on her arm. It was probably tight enough to cut her blood circulation off if he had hold of her for too long, but that wasn't the top of Claire's priorities at the current minute.

For the moment, all Claire could think about was that one of the unwilling participants in this war was one of its victims—and that they were never coming back.

* * *

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